


I Take Thee (by Kim G. and Linda)

by mickeym



Series: Randy and Michael [16]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Graphic Sex, M/M, Romance, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-07-21
Updated: 2001-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-09 15:28:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeym/pseuds/mickeym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael and Randy make the trip to Phoenix to attend Danie's wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Take Thee (by Kim G. and Linda)

**Author's Note:**

> Co-authored with Pierson.

September 3, 1998

To: MPierson@pharmacy.net

From: DReynolds@pyrex.com

Subject: Wedding!

Michael! I got the RSVP back yesterday from you--I'm *really* glad you're going to be able to make it out! (Not that I ever really thought you wouldn't, since you said you were coming while you were out here--but still.) Looks like you're bringing Randy, too, from the sound of it? I'm really looking forward to meeting him. So I can check out the competition ;-)

I'm certainly curious about the surprise you said you're getting for me and Will--I have to admit, you give the best surprises &lt;g&gt; You know we're registered at Dillards, right? Not that there's too much we need--we've managed to accumulate a whole bunch of stuff between the two of us (separately, of course).

You said you're coming out a day or two before the wedding, right? I have a block of rooms reserved for wedding guests at the Scottsdale Radisson; tell them you're with the Reynolds/Roberts party. Or you can just do your "I want the best suite in the place" thing that you do so well &lt;g&gt;

I have to tell you…I'm nervous. Not scared-to-death nervous, but…I don't know. I love Will, I really do. And he's--right for me, Michael. There will always be a part of me that belongs to you, that loves you. You're my dearest friend, we've been lovers for (well, let's don't talk about how long, hmm?) a while, and we've shared joy and sorrow together. We have *history*. I can't dismiss that--I won't dismiss it. Will knows I care for you a lot; he probably knows I love you--though it doesn't detract from what I feel for him. (Stop squirming, love. I'm almost done being mushy.) I just wanted to say…thank you. For giving me so much of yourself over the years. For being patient while I found myself…for teaching me so much. Sometimes I wish I had said yes to you; most of the time--like the night we had dinner and you told me about Randy--I'm glad I didn't. You should see yourself, Michael Pierson, when you talk about him. You…glow. You're a beautiful man, inside and out, and you deserve the best. I think Randy…sounds like he's the one to give it to you.

Be well, be happy, and I can't wait to see you in Scottsdale! I expect a dance at my reception--don't you dare disappoint me!

Oh! Side note--dinner at Monterey Whaling Company; they have lobster to die for :-)

See you in a few weeks, love! My best to Randy,

Danie

****************

To:  DReynolds@pyrex.com

From:  MPierson@pharmacy.net

Subject: RE:  Wedding!

Hullo, poppet.  You sound lovely, as always.

Absolutely nothing in the world would make me miss your wedding.  Randy is actually looking forward to meeting you---I do believe he said something similar to your comment about "checking out the competition".  I'll expect you both to behave yourselves---I remember how quick your hands are when you're pissed.  Should I warn him to wear a cup for your first meeting? &lt;bg&gt;

Although on second thought, I'm not sure they make them that large. &lt;vbg&gt;

As for the present, you'll just have to content yourself with waiting.  No hints, and I'm very glad you're not sitting here before me, or you'd have teased it out of me by now.  I never could keep a secret from you.  I will say that if Dillards carries it, I'll be rather surprised.

And yes, I know all about blending two households.  We're still working on it, even after all this time.  Randy and Miles have come to an uneasy truce; they simply ignore one another.  Ah, well.  It's better than living in an armed camp.  I suspect you and Will shall have an easier time of it.

He's really a splendid fellow, poppet.  In spite of myself, I like him.  Honestly, I didn't wish to do so; I suppose I'll always view him with a bit of jealousy---he did, after all, catch my Favorite American Girl.

As for lodgings, we'll be staying in the Presidential Suite at the Radisson.  Yes, the moment I knew you were getting married, I booked it.  Always be prepared, I say. 

Don't be afraid, poppet.  As you say, Will is right for you.  He *fits* you, complements you, in ways I never could.  What we've shared has been wonderful, and you know I'll always love you.  You'll always have a piece of my heart, Danie-girl.

We should be arriving two days before the ceremony.  I'm not quite certain of a time, as we're driving out.  Randy doesn't fly, and so we're taking the land route.  It will be interesting, I'm certain.

I look forward to dancing with you---I remember how beautifully you dance.

Michael

******************

Michael:          Early morning, just after sunrise, was a beautiful time in California.  It was still cool enough to have the windows down, and a lovely fresh breeze blew through the windows of Randy's truck, ruffling my hair and tugging at the sleeves of my white shirt.  Later, I'd have to roll them up as it grew warmer, for the moment, though, it felt good to have them buttoned down. 

I adjusted my sunglasses and glanced in the rearview mirror once more.  Pettigrew hung behind us, four car lengths, in a dusty black Ford Explorer.  He was very good; sometimes even I didn't pick him up.  I was certain Randy hadn't noticed him yet, and honestly, I hoped he didn't.  Both Erich and Miles had been adamant that I take a bodyguard along; it was a long trip overland, and all sorts of things might happen.  I tended to keep a very low profile; my media exposure since my divorce from Nicole was almost nil.  But things could and did happen to people in my position, and so when they'd insisted I take Pettigrew with me, I didn't argue.  I knew Pettigrew well from several assignments he'd had with me; he was a non-descript, utterly stable fellow who talked little and blended well into the background.  I rather liked him, and felt comfortable in his presence.

I wasn't so certain what Randy might think about the whole idea of having a bodyguard along, so I didn't mention it to him.  I supposed that had been a tactical error, and if he found out, there would be utter hell to pay.  He hated any kind of interference in our lives, but was smart enough to realize the necessity of a bodyguard on a trip such as this one.  The hell would come from my not telling him, not the fact of the bodyguard itself.  If I thought I could get away with it, I'd put one on him.  I'd had one on Nicole; small and delicate and petite, she had been an ideal target for kidnappers.  Granted, Randy was none of those, and as strong as an ox, but still, connection with me brought a degree of risk, no matter how small. 

But regardless of Randy's knowledge, Pettigrew followed us, a faithful, vigilant watchdog.  And I did feel rather safer with him about.  I wasn't accustomed to long road trips such as this had been, and felt rather out of my element.

I glanced over at Randy, absorbed in some political mystery/thriller.  He read amazingly fast; it was nothing for him to devour a thick book in a couple of hours.  The small back seat in the rear of the cab was littered with novels he'd already read or planned to read, their pages riffling noisily in the breeze.

Just for the hell of it, I ejected the CD playing and inserted one of my own, one he didn't know I'd brought along.  In a moment, the harmonies of the BeeGees floated out into the early morning air.

Randy:            I looked up when I realized I recognized "How Deep Is Your Love", and glanced over at Michael. "You are truly an evil man, you know that, right?" The grin I got in return seemed to indicate he didn't particularly care.

It'd been an interesting road trip thus far. I honestly hadn't realized it could be fun to drive this distance, but it was. We'd taken turns, switching off when one or the other got sleepy or our legs cramped up. It was interesting to see Michael *outside* the usual places I saw him. Even though I was used to seeing him at home, at play, in casual settings, this seemed different somehow. He looked good behind the wheel of my truck--and it took me a little while to figure out he was having a pretty good time. I should have warned him about the testosterone rush.

It was just a little past seven now; pretty soon the desert would begin heating up in earnest, but with any sort of luck we'd be in Scottsdale by about two, maybe three at the latest. I hated early mornings with a passion, but it seemed the really smart thing to do to get up early this morning and get a couple hours of highway behind us before the sun came up to scorch everything in its path. The weather forecast for the Phoenix area for this weekend was calling for temps well into the hundred and teens--and I wondered why on earth anyone would choose to live out here. Give me temperate California any day.

I was a little bit nervous; we were going to meet Danie and her fiancée for dinner tonight. The Radisson Resort had a new restaurant just opened up, and Danie had recommended another place as well. I wondered how awkward it would be to have dinner with this woman. I slipped my bookmark into place and wondered idly if there was a bookstore near the hotel; at the rate I was going I was going to run out. Unless I found something else to occupy my time.

Which led to lewd thoughts about Michael, and I looked sideways at him, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the beat. I grinned. "I can't believe you put that in. Now I'm going to be thinking weird *hair* thoughts for the rest of the day."

Michael:          I laughed; I couldn't help it.  I spared him a sidelong glance.  "You know, you could get a white polyester suit, and grow out your hair...long and *fluffy*."  I released the steering wheel long enough to make the appropriate hand motions, and predictably, he burst into laughter.  "And then I'll get a big Stetson and boots and chaps---the cowboy kind.  And I'll drawl a lot and walk bowlegged.  Then we'll be perfect for one another."

Randy:            "You'd look swell in chaps and boots, darlin'." I drawled the words out and Michael grinned; the grin widened when I continued, "I don't think either of us would be able to get the accents right. Much as I'm disappointed to admit that. Polyester is so me." I set the book down and stretched, yawning hugely. "I need coffee, Michael. I can't believe you made me leave after just one cup. Breakfast would be good, too. We need a restaurant." I reached down and dug through my travel bag for the stuff from Triple A I'd stashed yesterday.

  

  1. I gave a mental shrug.
  



"I'm not particular where we stop to eat, as long as we do so sometime soon.  And we need petrol.  I'd hate to run empty somewhere out in the desert---as much as I like heat, I'm certain I'd not like that."

 

Randy:            "Denny's. We should be coming up to signs for Indio pretty soon." I folded the map to the area we needed and frowned at Michael when he gave me that snarky 'you're anal about that *too*' look he'd given me last night. We'd had a wonderful 'discussion' about how the map had to be folded to the place we were traveling on it--which ended in a pushing match which ended up with us both gasping and laughing from different points on the bed. And he'd still called me anal. "Anywhere there're Denny's, there will be gas stations." I tossed the map onto the dash, then stretched again. "Coffee, bathroom, breakfast. In that order."

Michael:          I had an urge to just toss the damn map out the window, but realized that wouldn't be the wisest of actions, no matter how satisfying it might be.  Surely a city as large as Scottsdale wouldn't be difficult to find simply by road signs.  It might be worth it to see his look of horror and hear him swear, but I decided against it.

So, I behaved myself, and we drove on, chatting idly about this or that, as Randy looked out the window at the scenery.  It was sere and severe, beautiful in its own way, though nothing like San Francisco and it's surroundings, and even further from the cool misty green of England.  I felt an odd surge of homesickness for it; odd, as I'd just returned from there.

Indio rose up before us, and I took the exit.  We filled up with petrol, and then proceeded to a place called Denny's where we took a window booth.  As Randy went to the restroom, I saw Pettigrew pull up and park before coming in.  He took a place at the counter after a quick nod in my direction.

Randy:            It was already getting hot; I could feel it starting, the further the sun came up. Memories, long buried, of summers in Texas flashed through my mind and I almost laughed out loud. I'd gotten wimpy in the last fifteen years.

Michael headed for the restroom when I came back, and I was pleased beyond words when the waitress came over with a pot of coffee and two large orange juices. I hadn't ordered anything, which meant Michael had. Looking out for me. Looking after me. I scanned the menu while I waited for Michael. If we planned this right, we wouldn't have to stop again until we got to the hotel. I didn't mind fast food sometimes, but eating and then getting back into the truck to ride another so many hours wasn't my idea of a good time.

Michael slid into the booth across from me and I saluted him with the menu. "Let's plan to do brunch at the hotel Sunday morning. Even if we're up late partying, we can still make it."

Michael:          "Sounds lovely.  I suspect we will be up rather late," I said, perusing the menu.  Egad.  I suspected that nothing here was remotely healthy.  I chose what looked like the least offensive breakfast and hoped for the best. 

Leaning back into the booth, I unwrapped the tea bag, and popped it into the cup of hot water, then turned my saucer upside down atop it to let it steep.  Looking up, I saw Randy looking at me with a smug grin.  I returned it.

"Tea is the mark of a civilized man," I replied with some asperity.  "One ought to give it the proper respect and prepare it with grace." 

He continued to look at me down his nose.  It was a good attempt, but I could do it much better---how could I not, with a nose the size of mine?  I sighed, and decided to admit defeat.  "Yes, yes, you're not the only anal one.  Satisfied?"

Randy:            "I am." I fought against the urge to snicker and managed to more-or-less subdue it though it wasn't easy.

We filled the time waiting for our orders by relaxing and watching the sunrise and making small talk. My belly was grumbling mutinous thoughts by the time the waitress returned with our plates and a refill on my coffee. I wondered if I could get her to leave the pot and decided probably not. Too bad Denny's wasn't like IHOP--how much classier could a place get, where they gave you a whole carafe at once?

I'd gotten eggs, bacon and hotcakes; Michael was frowning at his french toast with strawberries. I waited 'til the waitress left us, then nudged his leg with my foot. "It's not gonna kill you, honest. Denny's isn't gourmet food, but it's not horrible, either. Be a good boy and eat up."

 

Michael:          I thought about offering him a rude gesture, then shrugged and dove in.  It helped that I was starving, but even if I had not been, the food was surprisingly good.   

"You realize, of course, that lovely young girls will be flinging themselves all over you requesting to dance," I said, and nudged his booted foot.  "You do dance, yes?" 

Randy:            I paused mid-chew and raised my left eyebrow in imitation of him--which earned me another nudge--then swallowed before answering. "I don't suppose you're going to count line dancing in this, are you?" His eyebrow rose and I had to admit, he did it better. Ah, well. We couldn't all be Mister Spock. I took a drink of my juice. "Yes, I can dance. It's not my most favorite thing in the world, but I can do the whole Arthur Murray ballroom dancing thing if necessary." I frowned. "I dunno about the 'lovely young girls flinging themselves all over me' part, though. I don't suppose I could just sit out the reception?" A thought occurred to me then, making me frown again. "We are going--together, right? I mean, I don't expect you to dance with me or anything, but--?"

Michael:          I set down my fork.  "We are going *together*.  Absolutely together.  Expect me to stick as closely to you as a burr."  I reached out and ran my fingers over his knuckles, and smiled at him.  "Per sempre, Caro."

Randy:            Well that resolved a tension I hadn't really been aware of, until it was gone. I returned the smile. "Per sempre." Somehow, weird as it was, it was easier to think 'forever' than to say 'I love you'. Whatever. It worked for us.

I downed my juice and finished up my eggs. Michael pushed the last couple bites of his toast around his plate then pushed it away. The waitress came over with the check and smiled as she set it down and gathered the plates up. "Can I get either of you anything else?"

We both shook our heads and I reached for the check. "No, we're good, thanks." Her eyes lingered on Michael for a moment before she smiled and turned away, and I grinned at him. "You sure do appeal to the population at large, darlin'."

Michael:          "It's the nose," I said sagely.  "It's because of the old wives' tales, you know."  I grinned at him. "Though truthfully, this nose should by rights belong to you, not me."

 

Randy:            I sputtered, then coughed. "I thought that was measured against feet, or toes, or something?" His response to that was blown away as he stepped out the door. I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him as I waited for my change.

He was leaning against the truck when I came out a moment later, and I caught the keys as he tossed them my way. "No more reading time, huh?"

 

Michael:          "You've been lazy long enough," I replied.  "It's my turn to sleep." 

He made a rude noise, and I climbed up into the truck.  Already it was hot; just standing waiting for him to unlock the doors had brought a fine sheen of sweat to my forehead and the small of my back.  Time for air conditioning, I supposed. 

We pulled out, sedately for Randy; I suppose it had something to do with the highway patrol cruiser sitting on the lot opposite us, and headed back for the highway.  Randy popped out the Bee Gees CD and replaced it with a country one.  I wondered if I should be alarmed that I recognized who sang. 

I sprawled in the seat and watched the countryside slide by, watched the sun crawl up the sky, growing white-hot as it went.  Cool air ruffled my hair from the air conditioning vents, swirling around like my thoughts.  Full and sleepy, a thought popped into my head.  "Did you really think I'd shuttle you into a corner, as if I were ashamed of you?"

Randy:            I gave Michael a glance out of the corner of my eye and shrugged. "I don't think you're ashamed of me, darlin'...and obviously at least one person at this wedding knows you're with me since you told her...I just wasn't sure. I guess...I'm not sure, since we're out of familiar territory. We're careful at home because our private lives don't need to be made public...but we're a long way from home, now."

Michael:          I shifted a little in the seat.  "I've never been ashamed of any partner I've ever had.  I'm certainly not ashamed of you.  You're my choice.  I've never been aggressive in pushing my preferences into people's faces, but I won't hide you away, either.  That would be wrong."

 

Randy:            I reached out and touched Michael's thigh, giving him a sidelong glance. "Wrong or not, I'd understand if you did. Really." His hand touched mine, then settled over it for a moment. Not really holding hands, just a brief touch, but it warmed me in a way not even the sun beating down could do. When he moved it away I missed it. "Tell me about Danie. When did you meet her? How long have you known her?"

Michael:          My smile faded into one soft with memory.  "I met Danie years upon years ago.  I hadn't been long out of university, but long enough to have a position at the London facility.  I met her at a pub...I'd just gotten back from vacation in Italy.  Quite the little minx...she picked me up."

Randy:            Years upon years. He'd told me had quite a lot of history with her...I flashed on the picture of the cabin he'd bought, now neatly tucked away in a card, along with the deed to the place. It was a beautiful thing, not really a *cabin*, but townhouse in Aspen, all ski lodges. There was also a gift from us tucked in my luggage, some crystal knick-knack Michael said Danie would like. "Did she live in London?"

Michael:          "No, she was an architecture student---she and a couple of girlfriends were making a whirlwind tour of England and Paris and Italy.  Danie never made it past London."  I grinned, remembering how bright her blue eyes had been, how golden her hair, how smooth her long tanned legs, how she'd smiled so sweetly, so confidently at me.  "I fancied her immediately, and we spent most of our time in one bed or another...we did get out occasionally to eat, or to take long drives to the country.  It was a very lovely and relaxing time...and when she returned to America, we stayed in correspondence...letters and phone calls, and when I could, I flew to see her.  We became close friends and lovers.  I grew to care for her very much."

Randy:            "Why didn't you marry her, then?" I didn't remember his ex-wife's name...Nicki? Nicolette...something like that. Nicole. It was Nicole. But if he'd cared for Danie...where was she in the picture? I didn't get it, and was fairly sure I wasn't going to get it...but I was willing to try.

Michael:          I shifted a little, rearranging myself in the seat.  I looked out the window instead of at Randy.  "She refused me," I said quietly.  "I wanted to marry her, but she turned me down."  Surprising, how it still stung, even years later.  "She was right, of course---we fared much better apart than together."  I lifted one shoulder in a shrug.  "But that's ancient history."

 

Randy:            Well now that was weird. I had a lot of trouble with the visual of anyone, much less a youngish, single woman who was already involved with him, turning Michael down, but I supposed there were mitigating circumstances to everything. I wasn't sure it bore further prying, though; it seemed to be if not painful then at least still a little tender. I reached out and squeezed his thigh gently in apology then changed the subject. "I'm not teaching this semester, Michael. Thought it might be nice to be home a few more nights each week."

Michael:          "Really?"  I smiled at him; the thought of actually having more time with him was very pleasing.  "I won't say I'm not happy to see more of you, but don't you love to teach?"

Randy:            "Well, yeah." I shifted in my seat then reached for my sunglasses. Too damn bright out now. "I do love to teach. But it seems more important to...be at home. I can teach again next semester, if they need me, and there are always seminars I can do. And I need to get busy and get some work done anyway...I haven't published any articles or papers in a while, which was pointed out to me recently." Dr. Jacoby, once my faculty advisor and still my mentor in many things, pointed out I was getting behind in my push to move forward in the scientific community. And if I wanted the position with the Foundation I had to get off my ass.

Michael:          "Admittedly, I don't know much about the academic community other than my own time spent at university.  Are you under a lot of pressure to publish?"

Randy:            "Some," I admitted, looking sideways out of the corner of my eye. "The scientific and academic communities generally rely on information disseminated by their own; if no one is making any theories or proofs or hypotheses, then nothing is happening. It's necessary too, to get ahead--if I want to move up within even your organization, I have to be published, be working on my own theories on things. It's the way things work." I gave him a lopsided smile. "Unlike a lot of other professions, science doesn't promote just because you've shown up for work every day or done a good job with the latest batches of measles inoculations."

Michael:          "Somehow, I have this visual of a bunch of bespectacled scientists with long white lab coattails flying, holding up shields of pocket protectors and having duels with slide rules, " I said with a laugh.  "Not quite that exciting, eh?"

Randy:            "I'll have you know I've *never* dueled with my slide rule. Now, my protractor, maybe--" I broke off when Michael snorted again and laughed silently at the rude gesture he made in my direction. When I had to stop or risk injury to my ribs I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "In reality, no. Lab work can be exciting, definitely...there's nothing quite like realizing you've made a breakthrough where you didn't expect one...but its kind of like...waiting, waiting, waiting punctuated by this high that lasts for a minute or so while you do a burn on adrenaline, then it's back to the waiting, waiting, waiting."

Michael:          "I'm quite certain I'd never fare well as a scientist," I replied.  "I'm patient, but not that patient.  I like results.  I like working with people, like steady forward direction.  Lizzie is more like you in that sense.  I think that you and she would get along wonderfully well.  Someday, I hope you'll meet her.  She would love you, I'm certain."

Randy:            "Lizzie, the 'I'll-listen-in-if-you-go-to-get-him Lizzie'?" Michael laughed and nodded. "I'd like to meet her sometime. I'd like to meet all your family." Privately I had my reservations about his brother Simon; from things Michael'd said he didn't seem like a very open, understanding person. But hey, I believed in giving everyone a chance--along with the rope to hang themselves, if necessary. "You said you have nieces and nephews too, right? How many of each?"

Michael:          "Simon has George and Emmie---lovely, lovely children, very sweet-natured, which is, I suspect, wholly due to Anne, his wife."  I offered him a crooked grin.  "Sarah, my other sister, has a little baby also---Thomas.  I saw Thomas for the first time last week.  He has his father's red hair."  I forbore to say I wished he could meet my family; there was little to be gained by dredging up old memories about flying.

Randy:            "I love European genetics--they're much easier to track than American. Smaller gene pool." I hated sunglasses; I knew Michael was laughing at me, though he kept a mostly-straight face. "You have red hair somewhere in your family, darlin', or little Thomas wouldn't have it. Red is a dominant recessive gene; have to have two in there somewhere."

Michael:          "Well, there was Aunt Lydia---she had red hair," I said reflectively.  "She was also mad as a hatter.  Completely daft.  Kept sheep in the house.  Very nasty.  One wore Wellies when visiting with her."

 

Randy:            "*Sheep*? In the house? Euw." Michael laughed at my reaction and I grinned back at him. "Boy. I can honestly say I don't know that there were any family members anywhere in my tree who kept sheep in their houses. Uh. Did you visit often?"

Michael:          "Only under threat of having riding privileges taken away for a couple of weeks.  Mother would pack us all into the Bentley, and we'd motor over to see her.  She considered it her duty to go see Aunt Lydia, though we all knew she hated it...she hated the sheep.  And we were never allowed to drink the tea....Aunt laced it with gin."   

Randy:            I laughed out loud at that one. "Why do I get the feeling you probably snuck the occasional drink when no one was looking?"

Michael:          "I'm terribly shocked that you should think such a thing of me," I said with a grin, and he turned his head long enough to give me a *look* over the tops of his sunglasses.  "Really, though, how often have you seen me drink anything other than the occasional glass of wine?  I don't drink to excess anymore."

 

Randy:            "No, you don't drink much." I shifted my attention back to the road. We were crossing over into Arizona, and honestly, I wouldn't have noticed the difference but for the signs which said 'Now leaving California' and 'Welcome to Arizona'. Heat waves rose off the asphalt spreading out before us and I shook my head and groped behind my seat for the cooler we'd filled with ice and bottled water earlier. "You said 'anymore'--did you, at one time?"

Michael:          "I've been young and very, very stupid, yes," I replied.  "We always had wine with the evening meal---mother is Italian, after all---so I'm accustomed to that.  But once I moved out into my own flat, I did the wild nights routine...drinking to excess, chasing everything that had a pulse and was slow enough for me to catch.  Male or female didn't matter much, as long as it felt good.  Then one night I discovered I shouldn't drink quite so much---it makes one terribly, terribly foolish."  I drew a deep breath, pushing away the memory.  "So now, I seldom drink.  At functions, I drink water, or at the very most, a couple of glasses of wine.  Nothing more than that."

 

Randy:            I nodded. "Makes sense. I haven't ever drunk much; beer once in a while and that's about it. I don't care for the taste much--especially hard spirits--and unfortunately, alcoholism lurks within my genes; my mom's mother had a problem. So I figure I'm better off just not having much to do with it." I glanced over at Michael, surprised to see him slouched a little, since I couldn't recall knowing anyone else in my life--except maybe Brian--who had better posture. I opened my mouth, a dozen different things flitting through my mind, then closed it again. I had my fair share of memories I wasn't ready to share yet; he was entitled to his.

Michael:          One of the many things I loved about Randy was that as curious, as impatient, as impetuous as he could be, he also had the sense when to back away gracefully.  I felt suddenly cold, and moved the vent away from me.  He glanced at me, eyes hidden by sunglasses, as were mine, but if he had questions, he kept them to himself.  Smart man.

I turned my face to the window and watched the arid scenery until I grew drowsy by the sameness of the landscape and the motion of the truck, and fell asleep.

Randy:            I watched the truck eat up the road while Michael slept. It was hot, even with the a/c on, so I went through several bottles of water. We passed through numerous tiny towns and road stops, none of which merited any particular notice. I changed CDs a couple of times, then found a radio station I liked; it played a pretty good selection of older and new country hits. When Michael woke up I'd look for an oldies station, but for now, this was great.

When I started seeing signs for Buckeye and Avondale and Tolleson, I knew we were getting closer. We were still a good solid couple of hours away, but we were getting there--which increased both my anticipation and my apprehension.

We'd decided since we were driving all this distance to make it a vacation of sorts--we both took a week off, though Michael wasn't really "off". He planned to take a day trip out to the Phoenix plant and check up on things there. I was amazed at what could be done to turn a vacation into a working trip.

I was looking forward to a couple of lazy days poolside, and maybe check out some of Phoenix. It would be too hot to do much hiking in the area, unless we wanted to drive up to Flagstaff, which didn't really appeal to either of us. That was fine; there was likely plenty to see and do in the area.

Avondale/Goodyear, and time to get gas again. I snuck a look at Michael; it always amazed me how vulnerable he looked when he slept. The only time his guard really went down, though he'd been lowering it more and more around me lately. I didn't wake him; if he woke when we stopped, fine. If not, that was fine, too.

Michael:          Although he closed the door gently, it was enough to wake me.  I glanced around; evidently, we were stopping for petrol.  I felt stiff and my head ached from sleeping in an awkward position; I'd be glad when we arrived at the hotel and I could take a shower, stretch out on the bed. 

The heat hit me like a club as I opened the door.  I'd forgotten just how hot it was here; I suspected it was selective memory loss.  How Danie could live under such conditions was beyond my ability to comprehend. 

I smiled at Randy as he pumped gas, and then stretched.  A trip to the restroom, then into the store to get a cold bottle of tea with lemon.  By that time Randy was at the counter, and I added my bottle to his, giving him a gentle nudge to the ribs.

Randy:            I nudged him back and smiled at the cashier. Her eyes were darting back and forth between me and Michael, obviously trying to decide if she was reading what she thought she was reading. I took my change and answered her "have a nice day" with one of my own.

Michael ended up about two steps ahead of me back to the truck, and was standing with his head cocked toward the driver's side. I shook my head. "I'll drive the rest of the way. Another hour or so should--hopefully--see us there. Or damn close anyway." I pulled the door open and heaved myself up into the seat, wiping my forearm across my face. "How the hell does anyone live here?"

 

Michael:          "I like warmth, but this is a bit much even for me," I said, leaning over the back of the seat to rummage about in my duffle bag for my Advil.  Once I'd taken a couple, and washed them down with the cold tea, I began to feel a bit better. 

I watched a bead of sweat slip down Randy's long neck, and had a strong urge to lean over and lick it off, then to nibble on the back of his neck, just beneath his hairline.  But now wasn't the time for that...perhaps when we got to the hotel, we'd have time for a bit of a romp.  I'd brought some things with me; if we felt like it, we might play a bit.

Randy:            I took a moment to study the map and the directions before easing us back out onto the interstate. The amount of traffic was increasing, marking our entrance into the city.

Here and there were buildings popping up, light tan and a curious whitewashed color highlighted by the blue sky. I had to admit; I'd never seen such a clear sky before. It was pretty, though the glare was a bit hard on the eyes.  Spiked, prickly saguaro cactus rose up from smaller clumps of other cacti and desert plants. The ground looked parched, beyond arid, and as beautiful as it was in a stark sort of way, I still wondered why anyone would want to live out here. It made me almost desperate to see green again. "I know you've been here before, but is this the first time you've driven in like this?"

 

Michael:          "Yes, I've just seen it from the airport to Danie's home, and if we were out and about anywhere.  It makes me miss England terribly.  Though I'm certain that this part of the country has quite a few British tourists...it's certainly different from home, and we tend to love sunny places.  My brother Jamie has been here, once when we first opened the Phoenix operations.  He said it was quite lovely for a visit, but that he could never live here.  We both liked New Orleans, with its sense of age and decadence, much better.  Mardi Gras with Jamie was quite interesting."  I smiled at the memory.  "I had thought of staying in New Orleans, but now, I'm very glad I moved on westward."

 

Randy:            I was, too. "Is your entire family involved with the business? I got the feeling before they weren't...but now, I'm re-thinking that?" I cursed silently when I realized I had to turn and I wasn't in the correct lane. Michael let out a very undignified yelp when I surged across three lanes of traffic, ending up in the right lane just in time. I glanced over at him. "Sorry."

  

  1. Are you certain you've never posed half-naked with a scantily-clad maiden swooning in your arms?" 
  



Randy:            "Positive." Michael's mouth quirked a little further at the dry tone and I slanted a glance at him--quickly, since Phoenix traffic was proving comparable to San Fran. "So you have a CEO, an investment banker, a novelist, an artist and a doctor in your midst. Your mom must be pretty proud of y'all. How many are married?"

Michael:          "None of us are indolent, that's a certainty...father would never allow us to be the idle rich.  He had a very strong work ethic, and mother, in her own way, was just as iron-willed.  It was my place to follow him into business, as eldest and as his son, and he steered Simon toward banking as a career; he saw it a beneficial adjunct to the business.  Sarah's too soft and gentle for the competitive world Simon and I live in, and Jamie too sensitive.  Lizzie would've done very well, but we knew from the time she was a child that she was destined to be a doctor---she would always operate on her dolls and stuffed toys, and then sew them back up."  I had to laugh; the visual, even years later, was still vivid.  "As for marriage, I've been married and divorced, as you know.  Simon's been married for ages, and has two children.  Sarah married two years ago, and now has a baby boy.  Her husband Stephen, is a highly placed barrister---um, lawyer.  Jamie is still unmarried---he has had several affairs, and shows no signs of committing to anyone."

 

Randy:            "And Lizzie's single." Michael nodded, eyes still watching the passing scenery, though I knew his attention was on me. I checked the map quickly and made the lane-change with considerable more grace and time to spare. We were moving around the airport now, heading into Scottsdale. I smiled and shifted, rolling my shoulders. It'd been a long morning and I was ready to stop, to get out of the truck and stay that way. "Be there in just a little bit, I'm thinking." I paused, then looked at Michael over the tops of my glasses. "Does your family know you're with me? I mean, obviously Lizzie does. But what about your mom? Does she want grandkids from you?"

Michael:          "I've not talked to Simon or Jamie, but Sarah was there with Thomas.  Mother and Nonna know now; I think Nonna knew the first moment she saw me; she's very astute.  As for children...."  I shrugged.  "I suspect they realize they shan't see any from me.  Whilst I was married to Nicole, they had high hopes, but when that didn't work out, and I showed no sign of settling down with any other suitable young lady, I think that logically, they understood that Pierson heirs would come from the others.  Mother and Nonna are disappointed, I know, but are wise enough not to bring it up anymore."

 

Randy:            I frowned, trying to work out the logistics in my head. "England--Britain--got rid of the laws of primogeniture for the most part, right? So your 'heirs' as such would be any of your sibs' kids who show promise and or interest in the business?"

Michael:          "I was speaking primarily of heirs in the family sense.  Someone to carry on the name.  George, specifically, and perhaps the next child---Anne's pregnant.  As for Lizzie---she always said that if she married, she'd keep her maiden name, and if she ever had children, they would carry that name.  As for the business---that remains to be seen.  None of us intend to force children into it if that isn't their inclination.  Lizzie would've been good, had she not shown such an interest in medicine, but even then, I doubt father would have let her work in it...he was quite the chauvinist.  I, however, am not of that mindset.  If any of them, regardless of sex, show an inclination, I'll certainly be glad to mentor them.  But that is quite far away, as they're all still very small."

 

Randy:            I wanted to ask what Michael's mom and grandmother thought of me...of the idea of Michael being with me. I had the feeling that while he'd had a lot of male lovers, he hadn't had one in an actual relationship. As in, living together. But I wasn't sure how to ask that without coming off sounding awfully insecure, so decided to forego it. "Your father wouldn't have let Lizzie learn the business just because she's a girl?" Michael nodded and I shook my head. "Wow." Obviously from his comments he had no such qualms, but it was kind of weird to hear about it...sexual discrimination alive and well. I bet all his secretaries wore skirts and that he slept with a lot of them, too.

The sign for the Radisson Spa and Resort rose up in front of us and I breathed out in relief. Finally. Okay, bitching *not* allowed, because we could have flown and been here in just a couple of hours, and it was incredibly decent of Michael to do the driving thing with me--incredibly decent he wanted me along badly enough to do this. But it was still a long couple of days in the truck and I was very glad to be here. "Heads up, darlin'. Hotel looming ahead."

Michael:          I'd have been a liar if I'd said I wasn't glad to see it.  Even as large as the truck was, it still made my legs cramp up, made me restless.  I was accustomed to movement; in my office, I paced all the time, so much so that Molly, my secretary, had often threatened to call in the tiger keepers from the zoo.

The moment we pulled up, we were surrounded by staff members---opening the doors, taking the keys from Randy to park the truck, helpful hands taking our baggage.  I kept my duffle firmly in hand, declining offers to take it, though they could manhandle the rest of my luggage all they wished.  We'd already sent the tuxes ahead, and Danie had custody of them; she'd insisted upon getting them for us and holding them safely.

It only took a few moments to register; when we stepped onto the lift, I saw Pettigrew entering the main lobby, eyes alert.  I'd booked him into a suite across the hallway from us for convenience; it was as close as I'd allow.  As the lift doors closed, I caught his eye and nodded almost imperceptibly; things were fine, and under control.  I let out a soft sigh, and rotated first one shoulder, and then the other.  I'd be very glad of a hot shower.

 

Randy:            The bellhop who helped us with our luggage was polite, helpful, and informative. His name was Chet and he looked like he was in his early twenties. He was a full-time student at ASU, and worked at the hotel part-time on the weekends. We spent the few minutes in the elevator with him letting us know the layout of the hotel, pool hours, restaurant hours.

He let us into the suite and gave us a minute to look around before he started taking our bags upstairs. I'd never seen a two-story hotel room before, though this was far more than just a 'room'. We had a balcony upstairs off the bedroom that had deck chairs and a small table; the bed was king-sized and looked awfully comfortable. The main floor of the suite was a living room/dining area, with a small kitchenette and a wet bar, and a bathroom. And another bathroom upstairs. Floor to ceiling windows at the far end of the sitting area were covered in french blinds; I blinked when Chet opened them, letting some of the sunlight spill in.

"Your room faces to the east, so you'll have the morning sun--and it won't be so bad in the afternoon. I've set your cases out on the dresser and hung up Mr. Pierson's suits in the closet. There is a phone upstairs and down here, and the fire exits are at the end of the hallway." He gestured toward the right of the door. "Is there anything else I can do for you, gentlemen?" I shook my head at the same time Michael did which made me smile; just a couple of months and we were already in tune with each other that much. I headed toward the small refrigerator to see what was in there to drink; Michael had pre-ordered juice and bottled water, the rest we would do later. Michael walked Chet to the door and tipped him while I poured us both some heavily-iced orange juice. When he returned I handed him the glass and clinked mine gently against his. "Here's to arriving safely."

 

Michael:          "Regardless of your driving," I said, and drank.  Randy frowned at me, and opened his mouth to defend his honor, and it seemed the time to lean in and kiss him.  My arm slid about his shoulders and drew him in closer.  When I pulled away from his mouth, he started to protest again, and so naturally, I kissed him again.  After I pulled away again, he was quite breathless, and his big hand closed in the front of my shirt and pulled me back.

"You're such an asshole, Pierson," he said before kissing me back.

That one was much longer, much deeper, and involved wandering hands and much rubbing against one another.  When he reached for the button to my denims, I took his wrist, snatched up my duffle, and pulled him upstairs.

By that time we were both fumbling at one another's clothing, and managed to get ourselves naked with a minimum of damaged clothing.  He pulled me down atop him, long legs locking around my hips, mouth sucking at my neck as I fumbled in my duffle for the lube.  Once I found it, I untangled myself from him with difficulty, and licked down his smooth, sweaty body until I came to his cock, hard and full and hot.

He tasted so good, and I gave myself over into the scents and tastes and sounds of him as he moved beneath me.  He begged and swore and clutched at me, and when I slid slick fingers into him, the little catching gasp he gave before the long deep moan made my heart turn over in my chest.  I loved that particular sound almost above all others; the utter surrender of his body to mine. 

  

  1. His fingers tightened in my hair, but he let me set the pace, and it seemed too soon before his breathing changed, and he gasped and curled half into a ball about me, filling me with the hot salty-bitter rush of his coming, his body clamping down on the three fingers I'd worked into him.
  



It filled me with such joy to give him pleasure, to have him accept it; it was almost better than my own completion.  I ached and throbbed to be within him, to join him in the mindless pleasure of orgasm and so surged up between his thighs, catching him behind the knees and opening his legs to give me room.  He looked up at me, flushed and sweaty, his eyes almost black with arousal and excitement, and I knew I'd never seen anything so wonderful and satisfying ever before.  "I love you," I said, and pushed into him, into his sweet hot body.

Randy:            "Yes--" I gasped the word, too busy feeling the sensations rippling through me to focus much on talking.  Michael knelt over me, his hands holding my legs up and open. I wrapped them around him and pulled him down to me to kiss again; seemed I never could get enough of kissing him. I whispered "love you, too," before latching onto his mouth.

It felt so good, our tongues mimicking the rhythm he was setting, his body hard and heavy atop mine. And the heat--it was as if a pool of it surrounded us; as if we were swimming in it.

We pulled apart at the same moment both gasping for air, and Michael grinned this hot, wicked grin at me before sliding out so slowly I thought I'd lose my mind. The grin stayed in place when he slid back in the same way, sending that heat to wind through me completely. I arched my hips and swore at him but he ignored me and repeated it until I was nearly mindless with pleasure.

Michael:          I shifted him, and moved, just *so*, and he yelped in pleasure.  He was always so gratifyingly noisy during sex; I never had to guess when something pleased him.  His cock stirred and swelled again as I moved within him slowly, stroking that same spot over and over again, and one of his hands went to fist himself, jerking himself as I fucked him.

It couldn't last forever; orgasm rushed toward me, inexorable, and I tumbled joyfully into it, pouring myself into him in an explosion of pleasure.

Randy:            I clenched myself around him, groaning through each contraction of his cock within me. The silver of his eyes changed hue to a deep, smoky grey, and he looked down at me, face contorted in pleasure. It made me wriggle beneath him, gasping as I clenched tighter around him, his moan making lust burn hotter inside me.

It took only another minute or so after Michael came for me to bring myself off again; comparatively it was a much smaller orgasm, but it felt good, spreading warmth all through me, making me all shivery and goose bumped. Michael draped himself over me and we laughed at the sticky wet that spread over both of us then I kissed him, tasting his mouth, and we lost ourselves in the gentle pleasure of kiss after kiss.

Michael:          I loved how he stroked and petted me; he'd become much freer with his caresses. I wondered if former partners had just rolled over and gone to sleep, as he'd always seemed surprised when I liked to touch or kiss afterward.  I gave a mental shrug.  Their loss, my gain.

I pulled him closer and wrapped myself around him, burying my face in his sweat-damp neck, content.  I felt drowsy, but not really inclined to sleep; I'd slept that morning in the truck.  Randy's hand traced little patterns up and down my spine; for all I knew, he was writing complex mathematical equations.  That thought made me smile.

After awhile, I began to get chilled; I could feel a cool draft from the air conditioning wisp across us, and Randy warmed only the front of my body.  I tugged Randy from the bed and into the shower; he groused a little, but was sleepily compliant.

The bath was suitably luxurious and pleased the sybarite within me.  The water poured down from above us in sheets; it made me think of a waterfall in the tropics somewhere instead of a hotel in Arizona.  I made a note to myself to make full use of it in the morning when I wasn't completely sated as I was now.

 

Randy:            Partway through the shower I roused, shaking off the sleepies. It was a very cool bathroom, better appointed in some ways than our bathroom at home. I could practically see Michael's mind whirling, considering renovations and whatnot. If I'd learned anything in the last several months, it was that he was definitely a man who enjoyed his creature comforts--and the bath ranked right up there near the top.

I washed him down, he washed me, then we groped and kissed under the spray for a few minutes. Nothing specifically designed to arouse, simply to make us feel good. I liked touching Michael; liked it a lot.

I got out first, giving him another moment to stand under the water, and grinned when he emerged, shaking his head to dislodge excess water. He caught the towel I tossed him and swiped it over long, lean muscles while I watched appreciatively in the mirror. "You gonna give Danie a call and let her know we're here?"

  

  1. "Hello?"
  



I couldn't help but smile at the familiar, much loved sound of her voice.  "Hullo, Danie.  It's Michael."

"Michael!" Her voice was almost, but not quite, a squeal of surprise. "Are you in town now? Tell me you're here, already."

"We're here, love," I said, as Randy emerged from the bath, naked and his short hair still damp.  "We just got in not very long ago.  We're at the Radisson."

"Ah. You're close then." The sparkle in her eyes, in her voice, was nearly visible even through the phone lines. "Twenty minutes away. I owe you tuxes. Can you guys meet us for dinner tonight? Will has office hours today, but he's done at five."

"We're looking forward to it," I assured her.  I wondered if I would always feel this odd little catch whenever I heard her voice, whenever I saw her; I suspected I always would.  It was a sweet ache, and oddly comforting.  "Where would you like to have dinner?  It's my treat."

She laughed softly, her voice edged with breathlessness. Not regret, but maybe a little sadness mixed with the joy. "We have a variety to offer you here. Monterey Whaling Company, Mother Tuckers, or Salsa Picado, if you want something spicier. Or Will and I can come get you, and we can decide then."

"Let's do that, shall we?"  Randy hitched up onto one hip on the arm of the chair beside my leg, and I reached to stroke his thigh.  "I'm not sure what Randy would like, though he does like spicy food."  I gave his thigh a little squeeze as he grinned down at me.

"He probably likes meat, too." The wink in her voice came through as clearly as if she were standing there in person, doing it. "But we can decide then. We'll be there at six, unless you need more time, and Will drives a silver-blue Expedition."

I mouthed the question "Six?" at Randy, and he nodded.  "Six would be lovely, Danie," I replied.  "We'll be waiting."

 

"We'll see you then. Dress...dressy casual. We're not up to ties and suits, considering what's coming, and we'll see you downstairs." She paused a heartbeat, then added softly, "Bye, love."

"Bye, Danie-girl," I said warmly, and then she rang off.  I clicked off the phone, then cleared my throat before looking back up at Randy.  "They'll pick us up at six, then."

Randy:            I eyed him closely. "Lot of emotion there, isn't there, darlin'?" He eyed me back for a moment, then gave a me a slight nod. I sighed softly. "Thought so." Part of me wanted to be jealous--wanted it very badly, as a matter of fact. But I couldn't find it within myself to allow it out. I was with Michael now, and I wasn't going to begrudge him his memories. I leaned over and kissed him soundly before releasing him. "How about a snack to tide us over 'til dinner?"

Michael:          A phone call brought us a selection of fruit, cheese, and crackers, and a plate of sushi for me---Randy rolled his eyes at that choice---and we sprawled on the bed, snacking and looking over the tourist guidebooks Randy had brought with us.  We argued good-naturedly over places to go, sights to see, and then it was time to get ready for dinner.  A quick shave, and then I dressed in fine black trousers and a black silk sweater; I remembered the nights became surprisingly cool.

Randy:            I fidgeted my way through shaving and dressing, and kept reminding myself there was no reason to be nervous. Just because we were going to meet Michael's ex-lover, and long-time friend...no, no reason to be nervous.

I studied myself in the mirror as I fussed with the comb; I needed to get myself a haircut soon. Maybe tomorrow at some point. Michael said "dressy casual" whatever the hell that was; I supposed it meant jeans weren't the best option. I settled for tan khakis and a button-down short-sleeve shirt that alternated deep forest green and tan stripes. And my boots. Michael looked good in his standard black-on-black; I wasn't sure if he owned anything in "dress casual" but black. I hadn't seen him in anything else, that I could recall. Maybe we'd have to go shopping at some point. I laughed to myself thinking about, then slipped my watch on and headed down the stairs to meet him.

It was ten 'til six on my watch when we headed out the door and toward the elevator. The tiny butterflies inside my stomach were fluttering madly and again I asked myself 'why'. It wasn't like I was really jealous--or was I? Interesting conundrum to keep my brain occupied for a while, anyway.

The sun was starting a slow descent toward the west when we walked outside, and even though it was nearly six, the heat hadn't lessened; if anything, after the cool and dim hotel room, it seemed stronger, whacking me upside the head as we stepped out into it. I didn't see any vehicles in the near vicinity, so settled myself onto bench. Michael watched me prop one leg across the other and grinned at my slightly battered boots peeping out. I smiled back. "Hey--we're truly in the west now. Boots are essential, darlin'."

 

Michael:          I smiled at him.  "I suppose they are," I conceded.  "I'll just have to pass on them though...that's more your style than my own."  I glanced down at my own black Italian loafers; I couldn't imagine wearing cowboy boots.

A flash of silver-blue caught my eye.  Danie and Will.  I watched as the doorman stepped up to open her door gallantly for her, and watched as her long, long, tan legs, amply exposed by the blue dress she wore, slid from the vehicle.  She gave this sexy little wiggle to rearrange her dress

and beamed at the doorman.

Ah, she was still lovely, still enough to make the man stare at her; when she smiled like that, few could resist her.  Her bare arms and legs were a lovely tan, and she'd pinned up her long blonde hair into a simple, elegant style that suited her immensely.  It left her neck bare, and I could remember very well how smooth it was beneath my lips, how she smelled right behind her ears, how soft her hair was.

Her blue eyes caught mine, and she smiled as I stood up.  A moment later, she filled my arms, and I staggered a little from the force of her hug; Danie was not a little petite woman.  Her arms and cheeks were cool from the air-conditioned cab of the SUV, but her mouth as she kissed me was warm and sweet.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Will coming up behind her, grinning, and I freed one hand to offer it to shake.  He grasped it, and Danie wriggled from my arms to slide one around Will's waist.  I felt somewhat bereft, but smiled at them both.  "Danie...Will...I'm so glad to see you both again."

Randy:            I climbed slowly to my feet as Danie, Michael and Will greeted each other, taking the moment to gather myself all together. Danie...wasn't anything at all like I'd pictured. It occurred to me, seeing her, that Michael had a picture or two of her in his jumble scattered throughout the apartment; seeing her in the flesh now I recognized her from the pictures.

She was much taller than I'd expected. For some reason I'd gotten it into my head that she was small and petite; in fact, she was anything but. Tall and slim, she had a very athletically proportioned body which made me think she ran or swam regularly--she had the same long, lean muscles Michael had. No tremendous curves, which I actually found a relief, for reasons I couldn't discern. Her hair was an ash-blond and swept up into a simple sort of knot at the back of her head. If I recalled correctly, she had short hair in Michael's pictures. And blue, blue eyes. Her dress showed off her tan, and highlighted her eyes--but I could see intelligence sparkling within. I wanted to dislike her, but I felt drawn to her, a kindred spirit of sorts. She was happy, shining almost, and it was a draw, definitely. Moths to the flame, though unlike probably every other man watching her right now, my draw wasn't sexual. She just looked like a fun person to get to know.

Her fiancee stood behind and slightly to the side of her, and I could tell at a glance he was older than either Danie or Michael--by a good decade, unless I missed my guess. But he wore his age well; the tiny lines around his eyes that I saw as I drew nearer to them were laugh lines.  Will looked to be a man who laughed easily--which was probably part of the draw to Danie. His hair was long--much longer even than hers looked to be. He wore it pulled back in a neat, understated tail, and in the light I could see silver sprinkled liberally through the brown. His eyes gleamed behind silver wire-frame glasses. He was shorter than either Michael or I, but not a small man; obviously he kept himself in shape as well. He and Danie both smiled at me as I stepped to Michael's side and Danie didn't give me but a half-second's worth of warning before she launched herself at me and pulled me into a hug.

"You must be Randy! I'm *so* glad to meet you." It only lasted a moment, but it was enough of a surprise that I found myself staring down at her, nonplussed, before I found my voice.

"I must be. Hi, Danie." I found a smile as she stepped back, still studying me. Will stretched his hand out.

"Will Roberts. Nice to meet you."

I shook his hand; good grip. "Randy Taylor. Nice to meet you. Both of you."

Michael:          I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.  Randy's green eyes had widened in alarm as Danie had hugged him; obviously, he'd not been expecting it.  I'd forgotten to warn him that Danie was a very expressive woman, and very free and easy with her affection.  Will and I shared an amused glance; I was fortunate he wasn't a jealous sort, as Danie always greeted and said goodbye to me with enthusiasm.  He well understood how she was, and how she didn't mean anything by it other than genuine affection.

I stepped in closer and my hand brushed across Randy's arm and broad shoulder; it was a subtle but clear gesture that showed he was very much my partner.  Randy glanced at me, and I smiled at him; normally, we seldom touched in public.  I simply wanted him to feel that while I'd always love Danie, she was in my past, and he was my present and my future.  He caught on quickly, and his smile was pleased and warm.

"Now that we've all met...if only superficially, I vote that we continue on to dinner---I for one am looking forward to a good meal instead of diner food." 

Danie laughed and called me an elitist, and I didn't bother to deny it.  Will helped her up into the cab, and I pointedly didn't watch as her short skirt rode up even higher, though I know Randy did, out of simple curiosity.  He and I settled into the back seat, and I reached over to squeeze his thigh.

Randy:            The ride to the restaurant was interesting, to say the least. Danie chatted mostly about the wedding, bringing Michael up to date on a couple of acquaintances they had in common, asking after his mother and grandmother. Another flash of jealousy--I was going to assume Danie'd met them. If Michael proposed at some point in the past, she'd met them at least once. I wondered if I'd ever get to.

Will chimed in occasionally, and Michael added his comments when called for, but Danie carried the bulk of the conversation--and I saw another similarity between us in that. It was weird in the extreme; I wouldn't go so far as to say we were clones or carbon copies, but I saw some of me in her and her in me. It was a little disquieting, actually.

Will dropped us at the front door of the restaurant. It was done hacienda style, like so many of the buildings I'd seen as Michael and I drove through Phoenix. A large neon chile made up the bulk of the sign; the rest proclaimed "Salsa Picado!" in bold, bright colors. I grinned; we were on home territory with this. Spicy Mexican food was my favorite.

Danie put our name in--there was already a line forming--then squeezed back in between Michael and me and cocked her head in my direction. "So."

"Yes?" I regarded her suspiciously. If I had to say she reminded me of anyone, it would have been Sandy, my nearest, dearest friend from school.

"Michael says you do science stuff for a living." She paused and elbowed Michael who coughed discreetly. "I know he's not terribly science-oriented, so--what exactly do you do, Randy?"

Not terribly science-oriented. She said it a helluva lot more tactfully than I ever had. I grinned. "Science stuff, huh? Well... yeah. I'm a bio-geneticist. One of the guys in white lab coats who helps Michael stay in business."

He coughed again and I grinned. Danie laughed. "Do you like your job?"

So, some people talk about the weather; Danie's thing was obviously careers and so on. I gave a mental shrug. "Most of the time. There are a lot of fascinating--and frustrating--things about my career, but I like what I do. A lot." My turn to pause, then I hit her before she could do a comeback question. "You're an architect?"

 

Michael:          I'd had to bite the inside of my cheek again as Danie said "science stuff"; Randy's eyebrows had gone up on that one.  I glanced over at Will; he watched their interactions with interest, as he was fully aware of all the dynamics between us, and as a psychologist, he was no doubt having a field day.

Randy:            "I love my work." Danie's eyes beheld her passion and I didn't doubt for a minute she felt for her field what I felt for mine. "I'd like to throw the senior partner of the firm out the nearest tall building...but I love my work." Her eyes were warm with amusement and I found myself grinning.

"Yeah, once in a while I want to do the same thing--" I winked at Michael. "So far I've restrained myself."

"Restraint is a good thing, definitely." She eyed me, then Michael in turn. "Though I can understand. Those senior partners can be a pain in the butt when they want to be."

Michael:          "So I've been told, and frequently," I said with a laugh.  Randy looked more relaxed, and Danie looked inordinately pleased.

At that time, they called our name, and we went into the restaurant.  Within, it was fragrant with spice and the most delicious scents, and my belly twinged in reaction; sushi most definitely didn't last very long.

The hostess showed us to a table in the back corner.  Will seated Danie, and then we had a moment to peruse our menus.  Danie leaned against Will's shoulder and looked up at him; her face was full of warmth and affection, and I glanced back down at my menu.  Randy's hand slipped beneath the table and squeezed my thigh, and I met his smile appreciatively.

 

Randy:            Our server came over and introduced herself and took our drink orders before leaving us to continue to peruse the menus. Another person dropped off chips and two different salsas; I deftly slid the hotter closer to me. Danie watched me and grinned.  "Did you guys decide to stay for a few days after the wedding? I know its hot this time of year, but there's so much to see...."

I nodded. "We figured since we'd taken the time to drive out here, we might as well stay for a few days and check out the area. Michael's going to check in on the facility here while we're here, so he can pretend he's working, but otherwise we're going to be indolent and do the tourist thing."

"Make sure you drive around in the evening, or go up to Camelback Mountain to see the lights of the city." Will crunched a chip, then continued, "It's a beautiful sight--and that's the best view."

Michael:          "We'd wanted to do some hiking, but I'm afraid it's a bit warm even for me," I said, and shrugged.  "Perhaps a bit of trail riding early in the morning.  More than likely, we'll do a bit of driving around, taking in the sights."

Randy:            "No, you don't want to do any hiking right now." Danie's voice was amused, but firm. "Bad time of year. Hot. Very hot. Especially for you non-native types." She gave both of us a brief glance then folded her menu and set it down decisively. "I'm going to have fajitas. Steak. Live dangerously."

"So can we drive up Camelback Mountain?" My tour book mentioned riding trails, which was where Michael'd gotten the idea, but I still wanted to see the city lights, too.

"Oh, yeah. You can ride up, or drive up. There are good spots scattered around to just park and look out over the city. Oh--and you have to go have dinner at the Pointe Resort--the restaurant is called "Pointe in Tyme". Silly play on words, but it's a fun place."

Michael:          I ordered chicken fajitas, and Randy ordered something probably as hot as the desert we'd driven through; I had no intentions of getting into another competition with him to see who could eat the spiciest food---I still didn't think my stomach had recovered from that little game.

Conversation ebbed and flowed naturally, held up primarily by Danie and Randy; Will and I tended to be quieter.  Still, it was nice to see that they had decided neither one was a threat to the other, and had relaxed enough to laugh with one another.

After two glasses of wine, I'd relaxed and mellowed out myself, and joined in more freely.

Randy:            I'd ordered the house special and it didn't disappoint. By the time our meals arrived we were all a little more comfortable with one another--though I remembered my first 'date' with Michael with a pang; we'd been so comfortable with one another so quickly--and all a little more mellow. Food and wine went a long way toward relaxing us, and while I didn't generally drink, I had a glass of sangria with dinner. It was sweet and potent and surprisingly good.

The sun was starting to set by the time we finished up and headed out to the Expedition, and I was absolutely amazed by the beauty of my first Arizona sunset. I'd never seen such a riot of orange and pink and mauve and purple all glowing softly, mingling together, creating new colors I didn't have names for. I leaned into Michael and whispered, "It's beautiful here."

Michael:          I slid my arm about his waist and leaned a little into him.  He was warm, and smelled wonderful.  "Yes, it is...I forget just how lovely it is here."  We watched as the colors faded and greyed, and I finally stirred enough to see Danie and Will beside us, watching the same thing, though Danie's attention had wandered more to us than to the spectacular sunset.  "We really are tourists, aren't we?" I said ruefully.

Randy:            "Definitely tourists." I grinned at him before leaning closer to whisper, "though there are some sites I'd like to see tonight that have nothing to do with Phoenix."

 

Michael:          I laughed softly and squeezed his waist.  "You have a one-track mind," I replied in a whisper.

We climbed back into the Expedition, and as it was still early, Will decided to give us what he called "the ten cent tour".  I certainly wasn't adverse to it; seeing things from a native's point of view would be most helpful.

Randy:            We drove around until the sky was a deep-hued blue, with black hovering on the edge, and the stars were starting to show through. Danie and Will knew a lot about the area and it showed in the funny little anecdotes they told us about places and things. I was surprised to learn that, aside from three separate trips overseas, and a handful of business and personal trips in the US, Danie hadn't left Arizona much. Will was originally from San Diego, but moved to Phoenix roughly twenty years ago to finish school, then stayed put.

They were going on an Alaskan cruise for their honeymoon, which sounded like a lot of fun. Danie found a brochure stuck in the glove box and passed it back to us; I squinted at it for a while before handing it off to Michael.

We returned to the hotel about the time true night hit. Danie got out of the SUV with us and got our tuxes from where they'd been hanging in the back. I followed her around to take them while Michael said goodnight to Will.

"I'm really glad to have met you, Randy." For the first time all evening her face was a little shuttered, her eyes serious. "It means a lot to me to see Michael happy--and I can see you're good for him."

I was a little surprised, a little taken aback--this woman hadn't stopped catching me off-guard all evening. "I--try. He means a lot to me."

"I can see that." She smiled at me and it looked a little sad. "I always told him--well, never mind that." She handed me the garment bags. "I'm really glad you came out with him...that you guys could make it. It means a lot to me."

I shifted uncomfortably. Where the hell was Michael? No heart-to-heart talks with the ex-girlfriend, or whatever the hell she was. Please. I nodded. "He wanted to come."  Her smile widened then and I knew Michael was behind me even before his hand settled on my shoulder. I nodded at Danie. "So I guess we'll see you guys Saturday then?"

Michael:          I had been talking to Will about their Alaskan cruise; I thought it had sounded perfectly lovely, and might be something Randy might be interested in at some time or another.

When I rejoined Randy and Danie, I could tell he was uncomfortable; though his smile was still as charming, he had a fine line of tension through his shoulders that probably only I noticed.  I slid my hand onto his shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.

"Saturday," Danie echoed.  Her eyes were very big, very blue, and color chased across her cheekbones. 

I stepped around Randy, and she filled my arms again, warm and sweet.  Her arms went around my neck, and her body fitted to mine, perfectly, as always.  I smoothed my palms over her back, and felt the minute tremor.  Her scent was in my nose, and for a moment, I had the strongest urge to run my hands over her slight curves just one more time, to lock them into memory.  But I didn't.  I pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, and whispered in her ear, "I'll always love you, Danie.  Be happy for me, will you?"

Her breath caught in a little hitch, but she nodded, squeezed me fiercely, and stepped away into Will's arms.  I watched as they got back into the Expedition, and Danie looked back at me one last time before they pulled away, eyes wet, but soft pink mouth smiling.

After almost twenty years, it was done.  That chapter of my life was over, that door firmly closed.  Danie was mine no longer.  A part of me grieved, and a part of me was happy; she truly loved Will, and I wished for her all the happiness in the world.  She deserved it.

I watched the Expedition until it was out of sight, a blur of red taillights in the night.  My throat felt curiously tight.  I glanced over to Randy, standing patiently, and offered him a very small smile.  "Let's go up, shall we?"

Randy:            I nodded; there didn't seem to be much to say that wouldn't sound callous or off-putting. I hadn't heard what he'd said to Danie, but I could imagine. I saw the emotions on Danie's face, and saw them mirrored in his eyes.

We were quiet for the ride up the elevator; I wasn't certain what to say and so silence seemed to be the best option. A man came out of the door across from ours as Michael was sliding the card-key through the scanner; he looked vaguely familiar for some reason, but I couldn't place him. He nodded pleasantly at me then headed down the hallway toward the elevator.

Once inside Michael went to stand before the windows, blinds still open, displaying city lights for us. I watched him for a moment, not sure what to do about the flood of emotions inside me--jealousy, concern, anger, love, they all mingled together and I felt more confused than I'd ever felt. I hung the garment bags in the small closet, then went to stand behind Michael, my arms around his waist. In respective boots and loafers we were nearly the same height, making it easy for me to brush a kiss across his ear. I held him tightly, until he relaxed slightly and leaned back against me.

 

Michael:          I let myself lean against Randy, and stroked my fingers across his forearms.  His breath was soft and warm against my neck, and he shifted enough to lay his cheek on my shoulder.  I had the urge to send for enough wine to drink myself into forgetfulness, but discarded that idea almost as soon as it formed as maudlin foolishness.  I had chosen my life, and Danie had chosen hers; they would no longer cross in the same way they always had.  We would no longer seek comfort and security in one another's arms as we had before; now, we were friends, never again to be lovers.

I contemplated the city awhile longer.  "Odd, " I said at last.  "I didn't expect it to be quite that difficult."

Randy:            I ran my hands down his forearms and locked our fingers together, bringing them all up in a double-hug. I could hear her in my head, 'I can see you're good for him', and tightened my grip on him. "Why not?"

Michael:          "I'm not certain," I admitted.  "It isn't as though I hadn't made my choice," I said, and squeezed his fingers tightly in my own.  "Because I have, and you're whom I want.  I suppose...I suppose it is because that part of my life is over."  I turned my head slightly, and offered him a small smile.  "Never mind me.  I shan't natter on about it."

Randy:            "You're not nattering, darlin'. You're *emoting*. It's what big boys like us are supposed to be able to do." That earned me another small smile and a dig into my ribs. I hugged him tighter, feeling strangely like I was standing on a precipice of some sorts and not sure why. Danie wasn't a part of my life. Being here to see her get married was just that--I'd accompanied Michael. Danie by herself meant very little to me.

Except that she'd been a very important part of Michael's life for a long time...and even though they weren't lovers any longer, they would still be friends. I sighed. "I don't think 'over' is the right word...maybe more like...evolved? Changed? It's not like you'll never talk to her again, or anything."

Michael:          "That's true, " I said.  "It just feels...strange...to let go that part of it.  Sixteen years is a long time to know someone in a particular fashion."  I turned from the window, slipping free of his embrace.  "But it's over and done with now," I said.  I brought up my hand, stroked over his smooth cheek, over the full shape of his mouth, my own curving into a smile.  "You are here, are now, are my future.  You're my choice.  I don't think I've ever felt for anyone the way I feel for you." 

Randy:            I nodded, wondering where the usual panic was, when Michael and I got too close to the emotions part of our relationship. We were tripping over the line and all I felt was this lazy, heavy feeling in my stomach--a warm feeling that was spreading. I smiled and raised my hand to mirror his action, stroking his cheek, then his mouth, letting my fingers glide over sharp jawbones and back up to high cheekbones. I touched him gently, then moved my hand around to cup his head, bringing him closer to me. When our mouths were nearly touching, our breath brushing against each other's lips, I whispered, "I'm not sure forever will be long enough." Then I covered his mouth with mine, tasting him long and deep.

Michael:          I let him lead me where he would, gave him control of the kiss.  My fingers slid into his short soft hair while I stroked his cheek, his jaw, and his neck with the other hand.  He poured everything into me, held back nothing.  I opened myself up to it all, willing to let him drive thought from my head, willing to drown in sensation. 

By the time he pulled away a fraction, I gasped for air and swayed into him, my arms going around him.  "I'm yours," I whispered against his soft, wet mouth. "Always yours."

Randy:            "Mine." I kissed him again, long and slow and lazy, searching his mouth, teasing his tongue. We both gasped again when I drew back and I smiled, bringing one hand around to trace a finger over his lips, feeling their softness. "Mine...and I'm yours."

He kissed the tip of my finger, then flicked it with his tongue when I eased it between his lips. It tickled a little and I shivered, then shivered again when he scraped his teeth lightly against it. I backed him up until he was flush against the windows and settled my hands to either side of his head, my body holding him there against the backdrop of night and lights. The soft white from the pool or tennis court area shone in, catching on the silver strands in his hair, illuminating his face. I leaned in and mouthed his earlobe, then licked down to that sensitive spot on his neck. Michael growled and I laughed softly before biting down gently.

Michael:          My hands slid down over his shoulders, over his chest, smoothing over the soft material of his shirt, outlining the hard muscle beneath.  I tipped back my head to allow him access to my neck; against the back of my head, the window was still warm.  I was already hard; my cock pressed against the front of my trousers, full and ready.

Randy licked down my neck and over my collarbone, pulling the v-neck of the sweater impatiently out of the way.  I hummed with pleasure; I liked that.  His nipples were sharp little points under my thumbs, and I scratched at them with my nails; he made a hungry sound against my skin.

 

Randy:            "I love this. Love it with you." My voice sounded harsher, hoarser than usual, and I wondered at how we could go and go and still go *again*...like the Energizer Bunny, or something. I slid my hands down the silky fabric of his sweater to the hem, then pulled it up over his head, giving a low growl of satisfaction as I flung the shirt behind me. Michael's laugh was low and throaty, turning to a sharp hiss when I bit at his nipples. I licked over one, then the other, my hands teasing restlessly over his sides, his waist, his arms. He wriggled against me and I let go, only to take his mouth again, swallowing any sounds we made as we rubbed against each other.

 

Michael:          I slid my hands down his belly, and he shifted restlessly against me, pressing his hips against mine.  I worked my hand down further, cupped him with one hand against the khaki fabric; I could feel his heat against my palm.  My nipples throbbed and ached from the score of his teeth and from rubbing against his shirt; it was wonderful.  My other hand tugged at his belt, then at his button and zip, and his cock spilled into my hands, thick and hot and already wet.  When my fingers wrapped around him, stroked him in just the way he liked, he pulled away from my mouth with a moan, his eyes falling shut, his lashes dark fans against his flushed cheeks.  He bit his lower lip and thrust into my grip, lost in movement and sensation.

Randy:            He stroked me for long, fevered minutes while I hung onto him, pushing back and forth within the tunnel of his hand. Unlike earlier, it was building slow and sweet tonight, heat rising within us at a manageable pace, not the out-of-control combustion that still made up a lot of our sex life.

Not that I minded out-of-control, or combustion. But I did like the slow and sweet and hot, too.  Sometimes.

I pulled away from his grasping, stroking hand and shivered when he tweaked the head of my cock before he let go. He was naked from the waist up, so I undid my shirt with trembling fingers while he unzipped and unbuckled. His cock was full, hard, and I stroked his 'skin back gently, my fingers playing along the thick column, tickling lightly. I pressed tight against him again, leaning us back against the window, and thrust my hips against his, rubbing hard, loving the way our bodies fit together. I licked and sucked at Michael's neck, wanting to leave marks but knowing that wasn't a good thing to do just now. He squirmed against me and I laughed, low and hoarse, then sucked again, raking my teeth lightly across warm, salty skin.

Michael:          There was something wonderfully, terribly illicit about doing this in front of the window, even though I didn't think anyone was close enough to see us.  He bit my shoulder, and with a grunt, I surged against his belly.  I worked one hand up and wound my fingers in the back of his hair and pulled his face up; his eyes were huge and black with arousal.  I kissed him fiercely, then pulled him back again by the hair when he would keep kissing me.  I brought my free hand up and slipped my fingers into his mouth.  "Wet," I panted.  "Get them wet."

Randy:            I held onto his wrist and stared at him while I sucked and licked at his fingers, imagining his cock in my mouth, leaking bitter fluid in tiny amounts. I shivered; I could practically taste it. When he pulled them out of my mouth he slid them out slowly, teasingly, and I groaned at the imagery.

Michael:          I could feel sweat gather at the base of my spine, at my hairline, in the center of my chest even as my cock twitched as I watched him suck my fingers.  I could smell him, smell us, rich ripe scent of man, of sweat, of semen; excitement rushed hotly through me.  I leaned in, licked over a pectoral, and then bit him hard enough to make him swear, loudly.  I laughed against his smooth, hot skin, and my wet fingers found the opening of his body and teased around it, stroking over that sensitive, sensation-hungry area.

Randy:            "Jesus, Michael." The words were hard to get out; anything that required extra oxygen was a Bad Thing right now, when I was panting just to get small amounts. I shifted and tried to spread my legs wider, but my pants were getting in the way. "Hang on--lemme take these off." Michael laughed and bit me again, showing no signs of moving his fingers or letting me move; he just continued to rub his slick fingers haphazardly around, teasing me relentlessly. I groaned and reached for his wrist, holding it but unable to pull his arm away. I looked at him, his grey eyes shadowed from me, but hunger plain on his face and the eroticism of the moment was almost more than I could stand. My stomach clenched tightly and I felt dizzy for a moment.

Michael:          My fingertips traced over the tiny ridges of his opening, and I felt him shudder against me, felt his cock surge as I teased him.  So good.  He pressed his hot face into my neck, mouth wet on my skin, and moaned as he tried to push back, to impale himself on my fingers.

"Upstairs," I whispered into his ear.  "Upstairs, and I'll make you feel so good...."

 

Randy:            I laughed, low and thick. "I already feel good, darlin'...you gonna make me feel better?" His answer was to press against my hole again, pushing lightly until he breached me just barely. I groaned and bit him again, then licked roughly at his skin. I still had hold of his wrist and he didn't show any signs of letting go of me. I shifted slowly until I was upright and growled when he moved his hand, scraping his fingernail lightly against my perineum and my balls as he moved it. "Ahh... I like that..."

Michael:          I laughed softly.  "Of course you do."  I slid my hand from between his legs, giving his arsecheek a firm squeeze as I did.  I tugged his khakis up enough so he wouldn't trip as he walked, then leaned in and kissed him again.  "I want room to spread out...to spread you out, to taste you."

Randy:            "I want to taste *you*," I muttered against his mouth. "It's been a while." 'A while' was probably relative, but it was true; I hadn't rimmed him or licked and sucked for days, at least, and I wasn't happy about that. "Pleasure, Michael...from head to toe." He kissed me again then gave me a little shove backward and I went, turning at the last moment so I wouldn't trip up the steps.

It wasn't a long flight of stairs, just far enough to fuel our hunger again. I pulled my boots off when we got to the top, then shucked my pants off, pausing just long enough to hang them over the back of the overstuffed chair. It was dim in the room; the only light came from what was shining through downstairs--though it was open, loft-style--we hadn't turned any lights on. I saw Michael cross to the dresser to retrieve his duffle, and not for the first time wondered what all he had in there. I met him halfway and took the bag, settled it on the bed, then pulled him close again for another kiss.

Michael:          I had shed my clothes as he had, and when he pulled me against him, the slide of naked flesh against naked flesh was familiar, and wonderful.  He did this whole-body little shimmy against me that had me moaning into his kiss; he was one of the most sensual people I'd ever known. 

He laughed softly as he pulled away from my mouth and slid slowly down my body, hands caressing, mouth soft and wet and sucking.  His knees hit the carpet with a soft thump, and his hands squeezed my arse as his tongue slipped over my belly in long, slow strokes, painting my skin with passion, and desire.  My cock nudged him under the chin, bumping into the soft flesh beneath his jaw, but he wasn't in any hurry to taste me.  I spread my legs a bit for balance, and his hands squeezed and kneaded my cheeks with just the right amount of roughness to feel really good.

I slid my hand into his hair, so soft against my fingertips.  It was tempting to urge him lower, to guide his mouth to my cock, but I relaxed and let him lick and kiss and nibble as he would; it all felt good.  His teeth scraped across my hipbone, then he shifted to rub his cheek against the bottom side of my cock before looking up at me, my wetness gleaming softly against his smooth skin.  His eyes had gone dark; they looked almost black in the dimness.  I ran my finger over his cheek, collected my wetness, and smoothed it over his lower lip.  His tongue flashed out to lick, so soft and warm and wet, and I wanted it on my cock with a sudden fierceness.  Heat washed over me, through me.  "You look so good there," I said huskily.

Randy:            "I like being here," I whispered back, licking his fingers again, tasting his seed there. I lapped at him, then moved back to tease his belly with my tongue, with my lips, before moving my head downward and licking over his long, full cock. He muttered something and his fingers tightened briefly in my hair when I dipped my tongue into his foreskin and wiggled, teasing the thin skin as well as the damp head of his cock. "You look so good here," I murmured and lipped him before bringing one hand around to stroke his 'skin back. I could do it with my mouth of course, but it was wonderful to stroke him and lick him at the same time.

I took my time teasing him, not really going down on him, just driving him to the brink, my mouth moving over his shaft, his balls, quick licks to the inside of each thigh followed by sharp, brief bites which pulled soft sobs of pleasure from him. I pushed against him once and Michael backed up a step toward the bed. I sucked one ball into my mouth and pushed again, gently. When I released him I gasped, "I want to rim you, Michael."

Michael:          By the time his words floated up to me, I shook with need and desire.  I wanted him---I wanted everything from him, and the need was so strong it was almost painful.  But what an exquisite pain it was.

I tugged him upward and claimed his mouth, pouring everything that I was, everything that I felt, into a kiss that was deep and probing and seemed to last forever.  When I pulled away, I licked across his swollen mouth.  "Yes," I whispered.  "Yes."

Slowly I stepped away, and the edge of the bed hit the back of my thighs.  Dizzy, I sat down and pushed myself back on the soft sheets and lay back, opening my thighs and exposing myself to him.  I ran my hands down my chest and belly, fingers ruffling through the hair, scratching gently; everything seemed to be so sensitive now.

His eyes watched me avidly, one hand slowly stroking over his cock, the other cradling his heavy sac, gently rolling his balls between his fingers.  I loved to see him work himself; it stoked my own hunger.  I matched his movements, my hips rocking gently upward into my strokes.  Randy was the acknowledged exhibitionist, but I could give him a show almost as good.

When his eyes darkened even further, and his hands stopped their motion to reach for me, I smiled at him and turned to my belly onto the mattress, presenting my arse to him.  The sheets were smooth and cool, and I allowed myself to rub against them a moment before glancing over my shoulder at him, sending him a dark, inviting look.

Randy:            I laughed, low and dark. "Tease." He laughed back, the sound husky and thick, and spread his legs further for me, giving me more room. I eased myself onto the bed and between his legs, wishing all beds were designed for bigger men such as us. Only our bed at home was large enough for all our play. "Been a while, darlin'," I whispered as I spread his cheeks and nuzzled one. He was sweaty and the rich flavor spread over my tongue when I licked at the droplets low on his back, watching one meander slowly down the shadowy cleft. "Too long," I continued, following the sweat drop with my tongue. Michael shivered beneath my hands, his cheeks clenching and unclenching as I teased him. I rubbed one fingertip over the small pucker hidden there and he made a low, raw sound, making me smile. "Right there, darlin'. Gonna taste you..." Then I bent my head and licked across him, slow, broad sweeps of my tongue that dragged over the sensitive skin. He moaned and pushed up against me and I tightened my grip on his cheeks, spreading him wider so I could get better access.

It didn't take me but a minute to relearn the territory as I followed each tiny ridge, each small line of the puckered skin. I pushed against him with my tongue, breaching him gently, listening to his moans and grunts as he moved with me. I cupped his balls and teased the sensitive skin behind them while I licked and sucked at him, biting around the small hole, making him red and puffy. I drew back when he sobbed softly, and licked my fingers, then stroked them over him, pushing one in gently, biting my lip to keep from groaning when he clenched me tightly. I kissed him right at the top of his cleft, then whispered, "Do you want to come, Michael?"

Michael:          My fingers knotted into the sheets until my knuckles were livid against my dark skin.  Sweat beaded on my forehead, on my upper lip, and I rubbed my face against the linens.  My body rocked back against him then down, grinding my cock into the mattress.  Randy's finger probed, and I gasped as pleasure blasted through me, a roman candle of sensation. 

He laughed softly as I panted, seeking to maintain control, then leaned in and licked from his slowly moving finger up my spine; it made me shudder, and my eyes closed tightly in pleasure.

His breath was warm against the back of my neck, and his chest brushed lightly over my shoulder blades.  He didn't rest his weight on me; he'd learned early that I didn't like feeling trapped, and no matter how I loved him, how I trusted him, I seldom offered myself like this, vulnerable on my belly.

"Michael?"  He breathed my name against the back of my neck, and I remembered he'd asked me a question.  Did I want to come now?  It wouldn't take much; my entire body hummed with arousal, edged with the barest sense of unease.

"Yes," I whispered.  "I want to come now...want to come on your tongue...."

He kissed the back of my neck, his finger working slowly in and out.  It felt good, but two would've been too much without better lubrication than saliva. 

I could almost feel his pleasure wash over me, swirl with my own. 

"Yeah," he replied, and slowly kissed his way back down my spine.

Randy:            I could feel the shudders working through him as I backed downward, his skin moving under my lips. My finger continued to play slowly within him until I was in position again. I slipped it out and spread him open again, my fingers biting gently into his skin. I kissed each cheek, cupping and fondling his balls, then whispered, "Work your cock for me, darlin'."

Michael moaned, "yes," then I heard a soft hiss when our fingers met before I withdrew mine. He was so hot, fiery almost, and I felt like I should hear sizzles where our skin touched.

I touched the tip of my tongue to his hole and smiled when he shivered. His fingers were wrapped around himself and he stroked slowly, almost as if he were waiting for me. I licked again, broad circles that tasted as much of him as possible, gradually narrowing them until I was licking only the smallest circle around the ridges, pressing against tight muscles with the tip of my tongue.

Michael was grunting beneath me, his breathing fast and ragged, hips moving in an easy rhythm. "Faster," I hissed, pushing into him, fucking him with my tongue. I wanted him to feel this all the way through him. I rubbed myself lightly against the edge of the bed. I didn't want enough friction to come yet, but I needed a little relief from the continuous ache. I spread him wider and stabbed harder, faster, tonguing him in a furious fucking motion, determined he really would come on my tongue.

Michael:          Nothing compared to the pleasure of rimming; hot, wet, incredibly intimate and wonderfully wicked.  I loved it; it was as close to penetrative sex as ever I got.  I rocked back against him and then forward into my own hand, hammered by sensation and unable to control the noises that spilled from me.  I could feel my orgasm gathering, ready to pounce, ready to overwhelm me, and my hand sped faster, matching the thrusting of his tongue as deeply into me as he could reach.  Close...close...his fingers worked beneath me and pressed hard, pushing on my prostate from the outside, and with a hoarse, loud cry, I was *there*, shuddering and splattering into my hand and against the sheets.

 

Randy:            I rode him through the spasms, then gentled my fucking until I was licking at him again, soothing rather than arousing. When Michael was sprawled against the bed panting, his body still twitching now and again I moved away from him enough to lay my head on his thigh and whisper, "You're beautiful like this." He snorted softly, but it wasn't a skeptical noise, just Michael being Michael. He didn't take compliments well.

I rested a moment, willing a little of the ache in my cock to subside, just for a moment, then pushed up off the bed and headed for the bathroom. It would take Michael a minute to get his breath back and I needed to brush my teeth.

When I came out of the bathroom he'd flopped over onto his back and was looking sweaty and sated all at the same time. I grinned at him and pounced, kissing him deep, probing and tasting all of his mouth. His arms came up around me holding me tight and then I was flipped and he was on top, grinning down at me with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Michael:          I settled atop him, letting him feel most of my weight; he always seemed to like that.  Satiety and satisfaction coursed through me; my blood still hummed through my veins.  I felt relaxed and utterly pleased with the entire world at the moment.  His cock, heavy and hot, lay between us; I felt it surge a little with need and want.  He looked flushed, his hair damp with sweat, and entirely too pleased with himself; his green eyes sparkled, and his reddened lips curved into a smile. 

  

  1. I lifted my head and looked down at him.
  



"What would you like, Caro?  What would please you?"

 

Randy:            "Just being here pleases me, darlin'," I smiled and rubbed up against him, hot and hard but feeling strangely fulfilled, too. Maybe it was seeing how his eyes had lightened, or that his shoulders weren't as tense now. Michael pressed his weight down against me to create friction when I rubbed and I sighed and pushed back, then reached for him, threading my fingers through soft, dark hair. It curled around his nape, the strands damp with sweat from earlier, and I played with them before drawing him down to me. "Kiss me, Michael. Kiss me...touch me...love me."

 

Michael:          He looked up at me, eyes huge, full of longing, full of love.  Nothing else mattered but this truth between us.  Though we seldom said the words, the emotion burned within us, bright and strong and true.  I leaned down and licked his mouth open; it parted for me eagerly, hungrily.  "Always," I said against his lips, and tilted my head to cover his mouth with my own.  He only had to ask once; I loved kissing him.  It made me feel completed, almost as connected as when I was buried entirely within him.  His mouth was a treasure, warm and rich.  With a sound that came from deep within him, he arched up to meet me, long legs winding about my hips, pulling me close, his hips rocking against mine.  His hard cock dug into my belly, sliding smoothly in the sheen of sweat on my skin and the wetness from himself. 

Randy:            It felt so good to taste him, to push against him, our bodies moving slowly together. Michael tasted of heat, of love, his mouth warm and slick on mine, relearning places he already knew by heart. I held him close and moved against him, my cock sliding easily against his body, slicked with sweat and precome. It wouldn't take much to get me off; I was already beyond aroused from tasting him, pleasuring him, just from being with him. Knowing he'd enjoyed it so much was my buzz tonight; this was icing. But truly wonderful icing, nonetheless. I groaned softly into his mouth and rocked up harder, a little faster, squirming under him when he moved counterpoint to me, giving me more slick friction to press against. I broke the kiss to pant softly, and growled low when he licked and sucked at my throat. "So good, darlin'...."

Michael:          I licked down the long line of his throat, over the line of his shoulder, then chose my place, bit down and sucked hard.  Warmth rushed up beneath my lips and tongue, and Randy shuddered hard beneath me, his hands gripping me tightly, his legs tight about my hips, his hips thrusting against me as I gave him a truly spectacular lovebite.  His breath was harsh and gasping next to my ear, and I swore I could feel his heart pounding against mine.

Randy:            Oh, I was glad he picked somewhere not likely to be seen. Not that it would matter, covered up by a tux, but still. I could feel the energies swirling around inside me, coalescing into a huge ball of fire in the pit of my stomach, working its way lower into the tightness of my groin. I was wound tight and still going as I rubbed and rocked and pressed up against Michael, humping for all I was worth. He bit me again, sucking and licking at the now-sensitive places he was leaving on my shoulder. He found one more spot, more on side, near my armpit and waited until I was gasping and moaning before biting down again. I exploded then, heat rushing through me as I spent myself against him, long pulses that made every atom inside me feel like it scattered before coming back together. I buried my face against him and sobbed with pleasure, sweat dripping down my face and spreading between us along with my seed.

Michael:          Randy's arms and legs tightened almost painfully about me as he came; his muscles were taut beneath his smooth skin.  I'd have bruises tomorrow, for a certainty.  But I'd never minded---I reveled in his strength, and bore his accidental bruises with pride. 

Gradually, his breathing slowed a little, and his arms and legs began to relax, and I could draw a deep breath once more.  I rolled us to our sides, and tucked his sweat-slick forehead into my neck; his breath was warm and moist against my skin.  He curled into me, and I stroked his soft skin gently, settling him.  I loved this part, the gentling, the touching, and he soaked it up as a sponge does water.  I didn't think anyone before had bothered to touch and caress afterward, and a memory sprang up in my mind, as clearly as it had happened yesterday, but it was years ago, during my first year at university. 

I'd brought someone home to my flat, had given myself to him, and he'd been very good, a first class fuck.  But afterwards, when sleepy and sated, I tried to cuddle and touch and kiss, as I loved to do, he'd pulled away from me with a snarl and had called me a faggot, saying that only girls liked that.  I'd watched him dress and slam out of my flat, and had felt very sorry for him; he'd never realized what he'd missed by dismissing such things out of hand.

Randy:            I smiled, a little sleepy but mostly just enjoying the feeling of holding and being held. Of cuddling. I think I'd missed this more than sex, some nights. "I love how that sounds," I said softly. Something about being sweeter than honey. Italian was pretty close to Spanish, but there were enough differences I didn't always understand everything Michael said. I snuggled closer and stroked a hand down his arm, ending at his hand, which I took. I kissed him gently and whispered, "Ti amo per sempre, darlin'."

  

  1. No one, not even Danie, as much as I'd cared for her, had ever made me feel this contented and complete.
  



"Per sempre," I agreed, and let myself drift off to sleep, secure in his embrace.

Randy:            I lay awake after he'd fallen asleep behind me, listening to the soft snores and grunts Michael made in his sleep. He gripped me tightly, even in his sleep, some tension still coiled deep inside him. Asleep he looked so much younger, more vulnerable, his face softened. I knew he was mourning Danie's loss, even if he wouldn't admit it in those words, and there was a part of me that was jealous, because that's a part, however small, that belonged to her and not me. But I have him with me...she made her choice not to have him. And he's mine now. It's a little startling to realize I'd fight for him...viciously, if necessary. When did I fall so hard, so fast? Why Michael? Because we clicked the minute we laid eyes on each other? Even if it took us months to admit it? It was something to think about. I'd never really bought into the idea of soul mates...but maybe I needed to reconsider.

I got up slowly, carefully, so I wouldn't wake him, and slipped into the bathroom to wash off. I felt really sticky and a little sweaty, though the a/c was pumping cool, dry air into the suite. Michael had curled onto his other side when I came back out and I slipped into bed behind him, curling my body around his. Protectively. I brushed a kiss over his neck and whisper against warm, slightly damp skin, "I love you, Michael."

*****

Danie: "Here, honey. Try just a few bites; it's just fruit, should make you feel better. I think your blood sugar just got too low." Mom handed me a small bowl and a chilled glass while Maggie tied a towel around my neck. Someone else, Stephie, I think, laid one over my lap. It wouldn't be a good idea to get the dress dirty or stained an hour before the wedding.

"Either that or I'm about to die of heatstroke," I muttered, sipping at the juice and taking a bite of the peaches. They were cool and helped instantly. "Thanks, mom." I leaned back in the chair watching the other girls getting ready. Maggie, my oldest niece and my youngest attendant, was already dressed. "Someone want to remind me why I thought getting married in September was a good idea?"

"I'm sure I don't know," Stephie shot back. "I was all for December or January."

Except Will and I had our hearts set on the Alaskan cruise and December or January was too cold for that. I took another sip of the juice then set the glass down and concentrated on the peaches. At some point I'd gotten overly hungry and hot, and was getting cranky. Thank god for mothers, though it'd been a long time since I'd thought that. Mom and I hadn't exactly seen eye-to-eye on a lot of the details of the wedding, but that was okay. In the end I'd persevered on what I'd really wanted, and vice versa. We were both happy. The day was here and no one had died. I grinned in general and Stephie, Allison and Louise looked back at me suspiciously. "Never mind," I said  with another grin. "You guys wouldn't get the joke." Well, Steph might. But that was neither here nor there.

There was a soft knock on the outer door of the dressing area and I sighed and set the bowl down, ready to run into the inner room again if it was Will on the other side. He didn't quite get the whole 'don't see the bride before the ceremony' thing. I wondered if any man did. "See who it is, Maggie, would you?" I called over my shoulder, moving out of the line of sight. There was a long silence when I wondered if Maggie was kidnapped by aliens or something, then she said softly, "Danie, Michael's here. He'd like to come in for a minute?"

Oh, wow. The last person I thought I'd see today before the ceremony. The last person I really wanted to see, because my make up was all done and I didn't want to cry and seeing Michael would probably do that. Stephie frowned at me from where she was wiggling into her dress and I ignored her. All these years and she'd never warmed up to him. Her loss. My mom was  beaming; she liked Michael, really liked him. She never could believe I'd turned him down. I wasn't always sure I believed I turned him down. I must've been possessed in that moment, or something. I realized Maggie was waiting and cleared my throat as I nodded. "Sure, let him in, hon...and would you all give us about ten or fifteen minutes alone?"

I took the towels off and hung them over the chair while the girls pulled their dresses on and went into the outer room; Michael was stepping through the door, looking...oh, god, so good in his tux. I knew he did; I'd seen it before, of course, but...it was like a hundred, thousand memories rushing back to grab at me and buffet me, making it hard for me to breathe. Mom kissed him on the cheek and beamed when he said something very softly to her, then he stepped into the inner dressing room and the door closed behind him.

Michael:          I felt like an outsider, an invader into a queen's inner sanctum.  Too tall, too big, too *male*.  Although the room was cool, it still managed to feel stuffy, and I supposed it was from all the bodies crowded into it, the various perfumes and powders and sprays women used.  I wanted to rub my nose, but refrained at the last moment.  I was unwelcome enough as it was. 

Danie had four attendants, all dressed in slim black dresses; she'd decided on a classic black and white scheme.  I heartily approved of her choice; it was elegant, and the bridesmaids' dresses were simple and lovely, not the tarted up frou-frou dresses of most weddings.  I'd always been convinced a bride put her attendants in such horrid dresses to make herself look all the better, and my own wedding, years ago, had been no exception.

Three of the ladies gave me curious looks, but the fourth's attention was mildly hostile.  Ah.  I recognized her.  Stephanie, Danie's best friend.  Although I'd met her only once, years ago in London, when I'd met Danie, I couldn't mistake her disapproving look.  She'd never liked me, but I'd lost remarkably little sleep over it.  I smiled and nodded at them.  "Good evening, ladies," I murmured, and one of them dissolved into giggles.  I wasn't certain if it was nerves, or what, but I'd been very glad Danie had never been the giggling type. 

And then Sylvia, Danie's mother, was at my side.  She was a beautiful woman still, with soft blonde hair and a porcelain complexion; Danie had inherited those from her, but on the whole, looked more like her father. 

I had always liked Sylvia, a sweet, gracious woman who had always treated me as one of her own, with unconditional affection.  Anytime I'd visited, she'd treated me like a king.  I leaned down and kissed her soft cheek.  She smelled lightly of orchids.  "Sylvia, you look just lovely," I said gently, and it was completely true; the black and white tailored suit she wore fit her beautifully.

"Thank you," she said, and though her mouth smiled, her blue eyes were very bright.  "But you really shouldn't be here.  Bad luck and all."

"That's only if I'm the groom, and unfortunately, I'm not the lucky man," I replied softly.  "I promise I shan't be a moment, truly."

Sylvia nodded; I don't think she ever understood why Danie and I had never married.  Honestly, I didn't, myself.  But that was neither here nor there; we had made our choices then, and our lives had gone on.  She had Will, and I had Randy, and we were both happy.  Sylvia liked Will just as much---how could she not, as he was so friendly and personable?  Hell, even *I* liked Will, and approved of him; he was a splendid match for Danie, a solid, dependable, good man.

"Through the door, then," Sylvia said.  "She's waiting for you."

I nodded, squeezed her shoulder lightly, and moved toward the door.  When I passed Steph, her dislike was practically tangible.  In spite of what she might think, I wasn't there to break up the wedding---far from it.  I just wanted one last word with her before her marriage, one last meeting with her as Danie Reynolds.  Given the years we had with one another, I didn't think it too much to ask.

I knocked softly on the door.  "Danie, it's Michael," I said before I opened it and went in.

This room was much smaller, and obviously a dressing room; articles of women's clothing lay scattered about, cases with makeup, hairbrushes and all the assorted clutter of women's efforts at enhancement.

And in the middle of it all stood Danie.

She was so beautiful, and for a moment I couldn't breathe.  My knees shook, and it was hard to swallow around the lump that suddenly seemed to spring up in my throat.  I leaned against the door for a moment while I looked at her and tried to regain the cool composure I'd maintained all day. 

She was a confection of satin, lace, embroidery and pearls.  The gown was simple and elegant, with a deep V-neck, short sleeves, and a full skirt with a train.  Her blonde hair was upswept in a smooth style that showed off her long slim neck, and her bodice was low enough in the front that I could see just a bare hint of cleavage.  Pearls shone in her ears, and around her neck was my necklace, the one I'd given her years ago in London.  I'd never seen her without it, ever, but still, it surprised me to see the golden heart lying on her smooth honey-colored skin.

I raised my eyes to her face.  Her summer-sky eyes were huge, and glistened with wetness. 

"Danie-girl," I said softly.  "You look like an angel."

Danie: I bit my lip, wondering about the look in his eyes; for just a moment regret flashed through me so hot, so painful I wanted to apologize. To whom, I wasn't sure. Michael for hurting him all those years ago? Will, for feeling that way? Myself for...a lot of things. I remembered what I'd said to Michael, what I'd asked of him that night he proposed, that I would always love him and would he keep a small part of his heart just for me. I wondered that this should be so painful, so bittersweet. I loved Will, strongly, deeply, always would. But Michael...god. I never had figured out what it was that bound us together so tightly; what had started as a lark and ended up as one of the most intense, fulfilling, lasting relationships of my life...that still managed to lack something. I gave my head a mental shake then stepped forward into his arms, my arms going tight around his waist, my voice a little hoarse and very soft. "I don't...regret Will...but you will always hold a piece of my heart Michael. Always. Thank you so much...for...everything over the years."

 

Michael:          Her hair was soft against my cheek, and she filled my arms, soft and womanly.  So different than Randy's solid muscled body.  She smelled wonderful; she still wore the scent I gave her every year for her birthday, and had, since we'd met.  I kissed her neck, ran my hands lightly over her back to the bow that began at the base of her spine.

"You know that no matter how much I love Randy, and I do, that I'll always, always love you.  These years we've been together have been wonderful, and I wouldn't trade the world for them."

I pulled away slightly, and tipped up her face.  "And you'll always be my favorite American girl," I said, and softly, gently, covered her mouth with my own.

Danie: I will not cry I will not cry I will not...Easier said than done, though, and I can feel the tears on my cheeks even pressed against Michael as I am. Oh, it's wonderful to kiss him, even if it means kissing him goodbye in a way. He startles a little against me when I open my mouth under his, then it's a kiss like he's always given me, tongue tasting me, heart pressed against mine, our bodies in sync as they've always been. It's a quick kiss, then he pulls away from me enough to kiss my cheeks and I wonder if my mascara ran while I cried. I smile sheepishly at him and reach for a tissue but he beats me to it, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping my face off. I raise up on my tiptoes and kiss him once more, a quick brush of lips, then lean back into my own space. It's over. Michael isn't mine any longer and I'm not his. And yet...I do wonder how true that really is. I think...hope...we'll remain connected in some fashion for as long as we have breath in our bodies. I squeeze his hand with one of mine. "I'm glad you came to see me one more time. I really hope Randy knows what a lucky guy he is."

Michael:          And so it is goodbye.  Although our lives as lovers stopped when I fell for Randy, they are now well and truly on different paths.  I cannot regret those paths, because we're both happy now, but still, a small part of me mourns for what might have been.  She will always have a place in my heart.  Danie has always been my friend, and now, that is all she will ever be.  I think that for a long time after she refused my proposal, I held hope that she would change her mind, but I should have known better; Danie's will is as great as my own.  One of the many things I loved about her.

I patted the tears from her cheeks, then ran my fingers over her ears, down her throat to where the golden heart lay on her chest.  I traced over the curves of the heart, and then stepped away forever. 

"Save a dance for me, will you, poppet?"

Danie: I sniffled once, then managed a smile. "Are you kidding me? At least one. As many as you'd like." It seemed easier to step back, to sit down, and I beckoned him to the chair beside me. "It feels...weird, to sit here..." I trailed off, uncertain how to phrase what I wanted to say. "It's been so many years, Michael. I mean...that we've known each other. And it feels like...goodbye, but it doesn't, too. I don't want to lose touch...promise me we won't? I couldn't..." I took a deep breath, looked him square in the eyes. "I used to tell you that I wasn't the one for you, and I still believe that's true. Randy is; I can see it in the way he looks at you, in the way you look at him. But there is a part of me, Michael Pierson, maybe...probably...a selfish part, that doesn't ever want to lose what I still have of you. You're my best friend...you know my heart as well as I do. So...promise me we'll still always be friends?"

Michael:          I sat down beside her, and picked up her slender hand.  "Always.  You can believe that."  I raised her fingers to my lips and kissed them, and at that moment, the door opened, and Stephanie stood there, her face growing as dark as a thundercloud as she took in the scene. 

"Danie, it's getting time...."

I didn't release Danie's hand instantly; I'd done nothing shameful. 

"It is time," I said softly.  "I just wanted to see you for a moment, but before I go, I'd like to give you something."

I let go her hand and reached into the inside pocket of my jacket.  I withdrew the envelope, and gave it to her.

"The wrapped gift is from Randy and I, but this is from me.  I hope you and Will enjoy it."

Danie: Steph was still in the doorway, looking daggers at Michael, and I waved her away. "In a minute, Steph. The wedding isn't for nearly an hour yet." She glared at me, then backed out of the door and I returned my attention to the envelope in my hand. "Can I open it now? Or do you want me to save it for later?"

 

Michael:          "I'd like for you to open it now, if you don't mind."  I wanted to see the expression on her face when she realized just what the gift was.  She and Will loved to ski, and I was certain it would be a very welcome gift.

Danie: I smiled. "I don't mind at all. Thank you." He grinned back at me, then settled back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. I recognized the pose; I'd seen it countless number of times. Michael was a master gift-giver; it was as if he could see into your heart, your mind, and figure out just exactly what would make you the happiest. Sometimes his gifts were frivolous whimsies, but more often than not they were well-thought out expressions of his feelings. I tore the envelope carefully and slid the card out, and nearly dropped the picture that slid out of the card. It was a picture of a cabin...a very beautiful cabin. I blinked and opened the card, which read "Best Wishes For The New Couple" and a sheaf of papers tumbled into my lap. The top one, when my fingers stopped trembling enough to fumble them, had "Deed" stamped across the top in red ink. I looked back at the picture and realized it was a lodge of sorts... and the address in the deed put it in Aspen. The names on the deed were mine and Will's -- with mine being in my married name. I scanned the document quickly, then looked at the picture again, then looked up at Michael, certain my eyes were wide with shock. "Oh, my God, Michael! A cabin...ohmyGOD..." I didn't know what to do with everything so I held the papers and picture all in one hand and threw my arms around his neck. "It's beautiful, it's incredible, it's...god, a skiing cabin?!"

Michael:          I couldn't help but laugh; Danie's enthusiasm made me feel warm again.  I eased her away from me, and she laughed and looked at the picture again.

"Yes, a skiing cabin.  I remembered how you and Will like to throw yourselves down mountains...I thought it would be nice for you to have a place to escape...a place to play."  I smiled down at her.  "And it is gorgeous there...the sunrises and sunsets are spectacular."

Danie: "You've been to Colorado?" At his nod, I smiled. "Silly man. And we don't throw ourselves down mountains...we hurl down them at ridiculously fast speeds." Michael coughed, but it didn't quite hide the smile he gave me afterward. I looked at the picture again and sighed. "This is the best, Michael. It could be a pile of sticks and it would be wonderful, coming from you, but--" I sighed. "I love it and I know Will…he'll love it, too. Thank you." I kissed his cheek and felt a pang, then smiled. "Thanks for everything."

Mom came in then, after a quick knock. "Michael, dear, you're going to have to go now. Danie, we've less than a half an hour."

I nodded and reached out to squeeze Michael's hand, giving him one last smile. "See you on the dance floor, Michael."

Michael:          "It's a promise, Danie-girl," I said, and rose.  I offered her a smile, and her soft pink mouth returned it, though it wobbled a little about the edges. 

I turned away, and didn't look back as I made my way out the door and to the auditorium, where my life, and Randy, awaited.

*******

Randy:            Michael slipped into the pew beside me with a rather pensive look on his face, though I think the only ones who might know it was pensive were those of us who knew him well. In this place, me and Danie. And since he'd just come from seeing her... "Did she like it? What'd she say?" I was curious; he'd been gone for nearly twenty minutes, and I wondered what he'd said or what she'd said. Not nosy curious, just...well, okay. A little nosy.

 

Michael:          Randy's bright green eyes behind the lenses of his glasses fairly burned with curiosity; his face was open, questions practically written upon it.  He could never truly control his expression, particularly when he was curious.  I smiled at him, and reached down to stroke the back of his hand, over his strong fingers, a subtle caress.  "She liked it very much, Caro.  It surprised her.  I think she rather expected copper cooking pans."  The corner of my mouth twitched upward.

Randy:            "As if you'd give anything so tacky for a gift." I winked at him, teasing lightly. Whatever Michael picked out was usually perfect, and it hadn't taken me long to figure out he liked to give gifts. I glanced at my watch -- one of such gifts -- and looked over my shoulder. "Another fifteen and things should be getting underway. There were four ushers seating people, and I was frankly amazed by the number of guests. For both sides. I quirked a smile at Michael. "Good thing it's a big church." And we all looked so very formal, too. All the men in tuxes or suits, though the majority were black-tie, all the women in formal gowns. It reminded me vaguely of a couple of the fundraisers I'd been to over the course of my employment with Pierson Pharmaceuticals and I said as much to Michael in a stage whisper and watched the smile on his face go from a brief twitch to full bloom.

Michael:          In another moment, I saw Sylvia slide into her pew, several ahead of us.  She looked flushed and radiant, and not very much older than Danie herself.  It was almost time.  Unconsciously, I slid my fingers over Randy's wrist; his pulse beat gently against my fingertips, and comforted me.  I glanced over at him, and he smiled back; the warmth there was enough to make my heart clench tightly in my chest, and I returned it with equal warmth.

Randy:            I just had time to squeeze his hand once more and the first notes of the pre-processional music began. Everyone rose to their feet and I took a step closer to Michael. We were sitting near to the front and were at the outside of the pew; I'd staked the seats out for us figuring Michael would want to be able to see Danie as she came down the isle. Will and his men were already standing up front and it tugged on something inside me to see him there, proud and happy...it wasn't that gay couples couldn't get married, it just wasn't considered legal and binding by state or nation, and many couples I knew personally didn't bother. Rings might be exchanged -- Brian and Josh had done that -- but most of the folks I knew didn't go the church route. I wondered idly why then wondered why I wondered. I glanced at Michael, now turned to watch for bridal party and wondered if he would ever want something like this -- a wedding -- again. Or would want to wear a ring. Interesting thought. Something to keep as a consideration.

And here they came, two little girls, one blond and the other with hair the color of the night sky, both wearing their hair done up in curls that...fell, somehow. White dresses, not the black the other girls were wearing, which seemed good. Black didn't seem like a good color for children as young as these two looked. They scattered rose petals as they walked and the air was heavy with the scent, making my nose itch. Then a young lady, and three more closer to Danie's age. Then Danie herself looking very beautiful in her long gown and veil, holding a very incredible bouquet of roses. Red and white roses, matching the petals she was now walking on. Her father beamed, and when I flicked my eyes down to where Will was standing, watching, waiting, he beamed as well. Danie looked...pale, but happy, and she stared straight ahead and toward Will until the last minute when she walked past us. Past Michael. Her eyes darted sideways for just an instant, then forward again. I couldn't see his face but I imagined a gentle smile; the kind he gave when he was happy about something. In spite of two nights ago, and a lingering tension yesterday and today, I thought he really was happy for Danie.

 

Michael:          I had been to many weddings...too many to count, really, but none, not even my own, seemed to make my chest feel as warm as this one.  I watched as Will took Danie's slender hand in his broad one, as her face tipped up to his, shining.  I listened to their voices promise to love, honor, and care for one another.  I watched as he slid the gold band on her finger, as he kissed her when the reverend pronounced them husband and wife.  I would always have a little piece of Danie in my heart, and she would always be my friend, but our lives had irrevocably diverged.  I looked at Randy, and squeezed his hand in mine; he rubbed his thumb across my fingers.  He was my life now, my here and now; Danie was in my past.

~finis~

 


End file.
